Power Known Not
by Magi Silverwolf
Summary: Harry was told by everyone that his scar was a curse scar. If everyone believes it, then it must be true...right?
1. Thurisaz

**Power Known Not**

Summary: Lily would do anything to protect her child…even toe a line that many before her had fallen over. Her precious baby was worth it. How will learning that information change the course of the war for said son?

Disclaimer: I wrote this piece-not the original series that it's based upon. I do not own it and, barring falling into a time-travel fic myself, never will. I am making no money off writing this. I get paid with the reviews that you so kindly leave.

Warnings: AU after HBP and part of DH. Explores the difference between Dark and Evil and more importantly, has the good guys walking the fine line between the two. I will try not to bash anyone, but sometimes you have to call a spade a spade. Excepting the "present" pairings, I'm going to respect all _past_ pairings.

Edited Warning [4/14/12]: This story contains things that may be objectionable to some audiences. These aspects, which I either had not known when I started the story or had thought would remain background color for the character(s), have become defining attributes which flavor the story far more than I had originally intended. If you have problems with the thought of witchcraft being a spiritual tool, or those that practice such a use, a) why are you reading Harry Potter? and b) this story may not be the best fit for you. I have individual warnings on the chapters that contain actual rites, but the spiritual side of things does become relevant, and very obviously pagan, around that point.

Reviews: Reviews of any sort are welcomed. Constructive criticism, such as pointing out writing errors or unexplained out of character-ness, are very great and tremendously welcomed with wide open arms and mind. Scathing reviews targeting content based upon perceived insults and solidus or offensiveness to any of the following: race, religion/spirituality/philosophy, disability, political opinion, ethnicity, sexuality, or inclusion (real or perceived) in a particular social group, will be considered flames and reported justly. I do not care if you wish to put forth hate, but do it in a calm, rational manner or do it somewhere else. Another note about reviews before I go and update this thing: if you spend the time and effort to give me a lengthy review, I will try to remember to reply, so please do so while signed in so that I may. It probably won't be promptly, so be prepared for that, but I will do my best. I will try to fix any errors that are pointed out as quickly as possible.

Power Known Not is brought to you by: Coffee! The Original Manna from Heaven! Coffee leaves you energized and when drank in moderation has been proven to reduce the risk of stroke. Drink a cup today!

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><p>Lily Potter y Evans believed in being prepared for everything. It was a habit that her mother had encouraged when she was younger. It kept her ahead in homework and made her learn her recital pieces long before the concerts. When she had discovered that magic was indeed real, it had her begging for books and having long conversations with the strange boy that had shared the information after seeing her fly. Lily was a firm believer in knowledge and putting that knowledge to good use.<p>

That was how she found herself in the Potter library a few hours after meeting with Albus Dumbledore with her husband, Frank Longbottom, and her best friend Alice. They had discussed a prophecy that _may_ concern one of the two couples' yet-to-be-born children. While she couldn't believe that Albus, brilliant man that he was supposed to be, would believe in something so foolish, it did not change the fact that the magical world did put a lot of stock in such tripe. Albus urged them to take action to protect the children, cautioning them that the Dark Lord-Lily cut off the thought hard. Even after not speaking with Severus for years, she still found herself referring to Voldemort as he did. Reflexively, Lily pushed past the old ache brought by the memory of her first magical friend and stepped further into the spacious library.

James was drinking his fear away with Sirius. That was how he dealt with frightening situations- -his strength was in laughter as was his kin-brother's. She loved that about him, but it was not how she dealt with things.

Frank had already started planning the wards he would add to his ancestral home. Frank was a hard man gifted in Runes. They had shared that class, so Lily knew just how good a Warder the auror was. If it weren't for the war, she was fairly certain that he would have chosen to work for Gringotts as a Warder. Frank placed protections around those he cared about-it was his strength and it would serve the entire Order well, she was certain. But it was not how she dealt with things.

Alice…dear, sweet Alice had simply closed her eyes upon hearing the prophecy. Her lips had moved, if only just barely, as if tracing the litany that Lily knew was playing through the other woman's mind. Alice had her faith and was empowered by it. Lily had seen the little witch do things with a prayer that should have been impossible. But it was not how Lily dealt with things.

It was times like this that Lily missed Severus. She walked among the shelves of books, trailing her fingers along the time spines. He had understood her need to plan everything, to prepare for all contingencies. It was her most Slytherin trait, he had claimed on numerous occasions before their fallout at the end of fifth year. Not for the first time, she idly wondered what he was doing at this very moment- -had he joined the Death Eaters yet? Or was he working in a lab somewhere, reinventing the art of potion making? It didn't matter that she hadn't spoken to him since seventh year at Hogwarts...which was coming up on three years. He had been her friend for far longer. She still wondered about him. What would Severus do if he learned that _his_ child was in terrible danger; if he was in her shoes?

He would destroy any possible threat while protecting his child from any possible harm. He would use everything and anything to assure that outcome. No sacrifice was too great, not to protect his child.

Lily stopped moving, one hand still touching the smooth leather of the books. A quick look told her that she had wandered into the section of the library that was older than the rest. None of the books had visible titles and there was a musky scent to the air. She couldn't garner any surprise about where her feet had taken her while she had pondered how Severus thought. It was only fitting that she'd find herself surrounded by Dark Arts books while thinking about the boy who had introduced her to the concept of magic.

She was not James or Sirius to laugh through danger. She didn't have Frank's instinctive grasp of ward arrays or Alice's powerful faith. But she had Severus' ruthlessness and a library that made the one at Hogwarts seem small in comparison. If there was a way to protect her child from the Dark Lord, she would find it.

She'd die before letting someone harm her child.

=[=]=[=]=[=]=

"Harry? Are you alright?"

Hermione Granger was worried. Harry had been sorting through boxes from the attic of Grimmauld Place. It was more for something to do. They had exhausted all possible ideas for research shortly after making peace with Kreacher over that locket. How could they find anything with nothing to go on, after all? When Harry had announced that it was time to sort the attic, Hermione had decided to help out. Harry had been quiet for the last half hour however. She had checked on him, only to see him looking through pictures and smiling softly. She was more than willing to leave him to it until she heard the pictures hitting the ground. The brunette had looked over to see that Harry was paler than normal.

"Harry? What's wrong?" Hermione took a hold of his arms and shook him gently. When he still didn't respond, she moved her hands to his cheeks and forced his face up. She couldn't make his eyes focus on hers. He was staring off into the distance. "Harry? Harry, look at me, _please_." Finally, those green eyes came back to life and focused on her.

"Hermione?"

Hermione did what any self-respecting young lady dealing with things that were much too stressful for her would do. She gave a hiccuping sob of relief and hugged him. Perplexed about her reaction, Harry repeated her name again and hugged her back. He may have muttered the phrase 'girls are mental', but Hermione was willing to ignore it in favor of getting her breathing back under control. As quick as her breakdown started, she pulled back and slugged him in the arm.

"Don't scare me like that," she scolded. It might have been more commanding if her nose wasn't stuffy and her voice clogged with the remains of her tears. Harry had the grace to look chagrined. She determinedly swiped at her cheeks to banish the moist evidence of her breakdown. "Now, what's wrong?"

"Why does something have to be wrong?"

"_Harry._"

"Alright, fine," he muttered, but instead of answering the question, he bent down to pick up the stack of pictures he had dropped. Hermione grew puzzled, but Harry usually explained things when he finally agreed to do so. She could wait a few minutes. After gathering the pictures, he thrust them at his friend. She took them without really thinking about it. "Look at them," he then commanded.

And she did.

The pictures were of a small raven-haired child. Child was a misnomer as the boy in the pictures couldn't be more than a year old on the outside. Hermione flipped through them and watched the boy take a few shaky steps before falling on a diapered rump, riding a tiny broom, gnawing on the ear of stuffed dog, standing on the stomach of a man who she recognized from Harry's photo album as James… It was not until the picture of a grinning Lily making the toddler wave at the camera that Hermione realized that the toddler had to be Harry. What was strange, however, was the fact that the Harry in the pictures had the same thin scar etched upon his forehead as the one the Harry before her did. She raised her eyes to meet Harry's once more.

"But- -but- _-how_? Everyone knows that it's a curse scar- -Dumbledore said it was!"

"I don't know, Hermione…but I want to find out."

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Author's Note: Well, that's the first chapter, folks. Review and tell me what you think or any predictions you might have. I do have a rough plan of what's going to happen, but for once, I'm doing a multichapter piece without an outline. Woot! I'm a rebel!

~Magi

Edited 03/11/12: A reviewer brought a slight confusion possibility to my attention- -and I had a missing 'n' in the Lily half of the chapter. These things have (hopefully) been fixed.


	2. Algiz

Power Known Not

Disclaimer: Yes, I am JK Rowling. I own Harry Potter! [evil cackle] And if you believe that, I have some ocean front property in Missouri that is going for cheap…

This chapter is brought to you by Organic Chamomile with Lavender tea. Soothe your stress away while promoting good digestion! Chamomile tea is naturally caffeine free and is a safe alternative to over the counter sedatives for those who have trouble falling asleep. Also helps soothes upset stomachs of whiny children. An excellent choice for the whole family!

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><p>"I don't understand this obsession, Lils," Alice said as she lowered the oversized teacup to the polished wood of the table. They were taking a risk meeting in public like this when they were both so close to their due dates. The only excuse they had was a thin one that would not hold up if their husbands questioned them too closely. It remained a tragic fact that the muggle world was just safer at the moment. Death Eaters did not frequent there. It was also easier to get baby things. To any of the other occupants of the same teashop, the two friends were simply that: friends enjoying a shopping spree. "I had to practically drag you out of the library today. Why are you researching runes anyway?"<p>

"You know why, Al," Lily replied. Her hand gripped the handle of her cup, causing her knuckles to turn white. Nerves gave her entire body a slight tremble, noticeable only by the ripples across the surface of her tea. "I'm trying to find a solution - - some lasting protection. There must be a way to prevent - -" She bit off the sentence with a whispered click of her teeth. The rest didn't need to be said to be heard. Lily refused to even acknowledge the thought. She forced herself not to sneer at her weakness. She had been channeling her inner Severus too much lately...

Alice did the only thing that she could have done. She reached across the table, and wormed her fingers between Lily's hand and the abused cup. Once Lily's hands had been successfully captured in both of Alice's, the tiny brunette gave a squeeze meant to reassure. Green eyes met warm brown as if startled.

"I'll pray with you, my sister," came Alice's quiet reply. Lily felt something within her that she didn't know was tense relax. It was like a switch had been thrown. In that moment, she knew - - she didn't know what she knew, but it felt like a fog had been lifted and everything was just so amazingly _clear_. Maybe faith really was the key to it all - - or could she use faith as a binder for the other elements? "We'll pray."

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The attic had a virtual treasure trove of things. It appeared that instead of nothing of his parents left, there were six large trunks and several more boxes all full of books, papers, pictures, and smallish keepsakes. To Harry, starved for knowledge of his parents as he was, the find was a feast. How could Sirius not have shared this with him?

"Perhaps he forgot, Harry," Hermione had said when he had posed the question to her. She slid one finger into the thick tome that she had been reading, preserving her place while she refocused her attention to answering Harry's question. Harry was fairly certain that the book was on that came from one of the boxes in the attic rather than the sanitized library. For some reason that he was not willing to analyze - - alright, he'd admit it: _brood_ over - - this fact did not annoy him as much as it would have if it had been someone else. Further reflection on his part was cut short by Hermione continuing. "Long term exposure to dementors can have that effect. He was in Azkaban for almost twelve years. That does qualify as long term."

Her explanation made sense, but the question continued to nag at him. Perhaps it was only because there was not much to distract him from the topic. Except for chess games with Ron (all of which Harry lost spectacularly to no surprise despite Hermione's claim that he _was_ getting better), Harry spent most of his time looking through the attic items or brooding. Hermione, of course, insisted that a bit of each day be spent in study. Kreacher was rarely seen except late at night due to his stalking of Umbridge. Harry took to staying up late just to have a snatched visit with the surprisingly pleasant elf...well, at least comparably pleasant. (Perhaps Hermione was on to something with the better treatment idea?) As much as Harry cared for both of his best friends, after several weeks with only them, and the occasional mad house elf, to talk to he was ready for a distraction.

Fate provided just that one night in September.

The trio of friends was in the library. Both Harry and Hermione were reading unfriendly-looking tomes from the attic. Ron was working his way grudgingly through an essay that Hermione had assigned them all a few days before. Harry had already finished it that night before while keeping watch for Kreacher. At the first sound of Dumbledore's voice, all three heads had snapped up. Books forgotten and instinctively armed, they made their way to the entry hall to be faced with the well-cloaked form of a familiar werewolf. After the shade of the Headmaster had been dealt with, Lupin found himself staring down three wands.

He did not draw his in return. Carefully, he raised his hands in the air by his head. His hazel eyes were suspiciously bright when they met Harry's. The pale skin of the claw scars across his face was whiter than normal, standing out against his tan. He looked a bit desperate to Harry, though the seventeen-year-old could not put his finger on what exactly gave him that impression.

"What was my grade on the Red Cap essay?" Hermione questioned. The Ministry did have a good idea from time to time after all. If a thirteen-year-old could brew Polyjuice successfully, who knew who else can?

"Blimey, Hermione, how would anyone remember _that_?" Ron protested while the actual person in question let out a weak chuckle. _'You know, Ron may have a point - - '_

"Because she spent a half an hour in my office arguing over it," Lupin answered, his voice raspy as if he had been yelling recently. Harry felt his jaw tighten at the thought and his feeling of something being off grew. "I don't think I ever truly convinced her that she deserved that 'E'. She was most adamant about its quality."

Silence reigned between the foursome for a moment before wands were lowered and they made their way to the abandoned library. Hermione and Ron resume their spots, though they refrained from picking back up their activities. Harry stood facing the doorway that Lupin was lingering in, one hand resting on the wingback chair in which he had been sitting prior to the ex-professor's arrival. Lupin was picking at a loose string from his cloak. '_Nervous_,' Harry's mind practically screamed at him.

"So…"

Harry and Lupin looked at each other as they both attempted to speak. Ron was staring at his essay with his quill in hand. It did not fool Harry, but he did appreciate the effort that the youngest Weasley male was putting into the appearance of not listening. Hermione was watching them closely, however. The fingers of her left hand traced some idle design on the blank front of her book while her right hand was wrapped tightly around the handle of her wand. The witch was careful to keep that hand tuck close to her side. Harry only saw it because of his angle. Reading those books from the attic must be making him paranoid if he was thinking that Lupin was a potential threat.

"How's Tonks?" Harry asked in an effort worthy of the Dursleys to appear normal. Lupin winced as if pained at the thought. Assuming he understood, Harry rushed onward, his mouth moving just as fast as his thoughts. "I guess she wouldn't be 'Tonks' any more, would she - - being married and all. Congrats, by the way, on your nuptials. I'm sure that Sirius would have been as pleased as punch that you finally settled down. So how is - - you know, it would be better if I knew what to call her..."

"Dora," Lupin answered hoarsely. That string was under attack again as the werewolf's hands began to pluck at it in his nervousness. His eyes, focused as they were on the floor, seemed to have too much gold to Harry. The Gryffindor dismissed it as the angle the light was hitting them. "She is - - will be fine. She's pregnant."

"That's great," Harry replied, perhaps too brightly from the pained look that crossed Lupin's face again. Perhaps it was too soon? Wasn't there some superstition about waiting until the third month or starting to show or something? Harry was never certain what to say when it came to family news. The Dursleys had made sure that he was never included by anyone in the neighborhood in things like this. "A little Marauder could be just what we need about now."

"I want to help you, Harry," Lupin said in a rush. Harry recognized the tone he was using. Seamus used it when he was attempting to talk his way into trouble or back out again. Ron's eyes flickered up to meet Harry's in a brief flash of blue. Harry didn't need to exchange words to know that Ron recognized it as well. It was not until Harry saw Hermione's wand twitch that he realized the implications of that small statement. Hermione's nod was almost imperceptible. "I don't know what, but I do know that Dumbledore charged you with something. I can help! You've got to let me, Harry. For Dora's sake."

"What about the baby? I don't know how long our mission would take, sir," Harry replied. Dumbledore had told him not to tell anyone, but what good did it do when he had given Harry next to no clues as to what to do? Dumbledore had destroyed the ring in some way that he had never disclosed. They couldn't stab every Horcrux with a basilisk fang, now could they? After all, they were fresh out at the moment. But he wouldn't steal a baby's father away, someone's husband. "Doesn't T- -Dora need you?"

"She's better off without me," the werewolf whispered. It echoed in the quiet room. Harry saw red. His hand tightened on the back of the chair. After weeks of inaction and stress, Harry's temper finally found some target to focus on that was not Voldemort. But before the Boy-Who-Lived could do more than draw in the breath to yell, there was a loud thunk as Hermione's book dropped to the floor. Harry and Ron could only stare as Hermione stalked from the couch to where Lupin stood. The slap was just as loud as the book's thunk had been and Harry felt the same small thrill at this slap that he had gotten from Hermione slapping Malfoy back in third year.

"Never, ever, _ever,_ doubt that Tonks loves you, you ingrate," Hermione snapped. Magic crackled in the air, but Harry couldn't tell if it was from her or him. The tiny part of him that was not thoroughly pissed off, pitied Lupin having to face down Hermione in a rage. It was a tiny part that was easily ignored. "It is times like this that we should pull together as family, not segment ourselves!"

"Would my father have left my mother while she was pregnant?" Somehow, Harry managed to not shout while still conveying the depth of his anger. All the pictures from the attic flashed through his mind. That man did not look like he would leave the angel at his side for anything. Harry felt the anger begin to ebb at the thought of his parents. They would have done anything to save him, even if it meant sacrificing time with him. He knew it instinctively. But would either of them have claimed that the other was better off without them? "Hermione's right. This is the time we should pull together, but Dumbledore said not to share my mission. If Voldemort knew - -"

Kreacher chose that moment to pop into to library. The little elf was grinning maniacally and was practically glowing with pride. He had scratches on his cheek that seeped a greenish-blue substance that must be blood. The clean pillowcase that Harry had forced upon him a couple of weeks ago in gratitude of his determination of getting the locket back for them was now stained with ash and blood - - the red human variety. What drew all conversation in the room to a stop was the golden locket in his tiny hand. The light flashed off it tauntingly.

"Kreacher has it, Master Harry! _Kreacher has it_!"

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Author's Note: So this chapter does further plot; I swear it does. I finished this and decided not to wait until my next day off to post this. Just for future reference, I will probably move my update schedule to Wednesdays after this week. That said, I love the amazing response that I've got for this story. Thank you to all of you who have favorited this story, put this story or me on alert, and reviewed. I look forward hearing from y'all!

Edited 03/13/2012: Fixed slight error concerning the Polyjuice comment. It now reads "thirteen-year-old" rather than "third year".


	3. Raidho

Disclaimer: I may write fanfiction for Harry Potter, but I am not in any way responsible for what occurred in the last two books or any of the movies. That's all JK Rowling's doing. The only money I make is from auditing files.

This chapter is brought to you by Noodles! Coming in a vast variety of shapes, sizes, and kinds, noodles are easily the most versatile of foods. Make them your cabinet staple today!

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><p>"Lily, what are you doing here?"<p>

The redhead in question jumped at Sirius' barked question. _The Uses and Methods of Blood Magic_ fell from her nerveless fingers to the hardwood floor below her feet. She spared a brief grateful thought that the book did not have a title on the front. At least it was Sirius that caught her and not James- - Sirius could be convinced to not question what she was doing in the more questionable section of the Potter library. Lily pressed one hand against her chest as if to soothe her pounding heart.

"Sirius! You scared me," she scolded as she attempted to scoop up the book. It was a sad attempt. Her baby bump did not allow her to bend at the waist anymore and squatting down was a precarious endeavor. She managed to get a hold of the tome, but when she tried to stand back up, she overbalanced backwards onto her posterior. Frustration made tears prickle in her eyes. Oh, dear god, she wasn't about to cry _again_, was she? Damn hormones!

"Lily? Come on, Lils, don't cry," Sirius said as he squatted beside her and patted her awkwardly on the back. "What would Jamie say if he knew I made you cry again? He still hasn't forgiven me for the firework in the sugar bowl. Mind like a steel trap, he has."

The Black heir gently took the book from her hands. Before Lily could even think of stopping him, he had looked at the spine. Seeing the blankness, Sirius flipped the book open to the title page. Silence reigned for one long moment as it dawned on Lily that she was well and truly busted. She didn't have time to curse before Sirius' grey eyes were staring into her green ones.

"Why are you reading about blood magic, Lily? All blood magic is- -beyond questionable- -it's _Dark_."

"I was just- -"

"No, you don't 'just' study the Dark Arts, Lils," Sirius interrupted firmly. Their eyes were still connected. Lily could see a thousand memories playing through his mind. Lily knew a bit about his home life before he moved in with the Potters. Neither Sirius nor James wanted to talk about it beyond generalities. Their staunch silence led her to believe that whatever was playing through Sirius' mind now was beyond terrible. "It starts off that way, but then it sucks you in and never lets you go. Why would you even look at things like this? You've got to think about Harry, Lil. Do you really want to hurt him like this?"

"I'm not going to hurt him, Sirius. I would _never_ hurt my child. Everything I am doing is to _save_ him. You have got to believe me, Sirius."

Sirius sighed and looked away finally. He sighed again after reading the title of the book one more time. He closed the book with a snap and set it sideways on the bookshelf. Rising to his feet, he held both hands out to her. Thankful to the assistance and embarrassed that she needed it, she accepted the help to her feet. Inexplicably, the former Gryffindor felt her eyes filling with tears. Sirius pulled her into his arms to give her a hug and held her as she sniffled against the threatening flood.

"It's not that I don't believe that you have the best of intentions, Lily," he murmured against her hair several minutes later. His large hands rubbed her back soothingly. "I just…I've seen what the Dark Arts can do to a person. They're called addictive for a reason. If Jamie lost you…"

"James is not going to lose me," Lily said against Sirius' shoulder. They both could feel the spreading moisture from her tears. Neither of them was choosing to comment on it, just as they could both hear the lie in her words. After all the deaths they had experienced, both were certain that this war would end them. Sirius' hold tightened on her as his forehead came to rest against the top of her head. Defeat clawed at both of their hearts. "James is not going to lose me," she repeated with a firmness that she didn't feel. With effort, she swallowed the tears that clogged her throat. "But if I can protect Harry against Vo-voldemort, wouldn't any method be worth it? Who cares about the harm that comes to those who would dare to attack my son with the intent to seriously harm him?"

"Lily," Sirius sighed. His breath warmed her hair. The auror made as if to move away, but her hands fisted on his shirt. Their eyes met again. The distance between them was far more intimate than they had ever found themselves in before; they had always respected each other's boundaries and kept away from one another. Sirius' eyes were wide with uncertainty and a fear so foreign to him that even James would have said that Sirius was incapable of feeling it. Lily remained strong in the face of it. Now was not the time to give into her similar fear.

"I will protect my child, Sirius. I don't care what laws I have to break to do so." Lily raised her chin defiantly and with false bravado. Sirius stilled at her words. She spun out of his arms with a grace that belied her extremely pregnant body. She didn't go far, but those haunted eyes were beginning to get to her. A few steps away, she reached out one hand to steady herself. Women a week from their due dates weren't meant to do quick spins on their heels. With all the strength of a prophecy, she continued her conviction. Her voice never rose above a furious whisper, but seemed to stab at the space between them like a shout. "I will make that _bastard_ pay for even thinking of targeting my family. The Dark Lord _will_ fall, Sirius, and my son _will_ live. Those are my goals and if you don't agree, you can bloody well shove off!"

"And how do you propose we go about doing this impossible task, Lils?"

She looked at him over her shoulder before slowly turning to face him once more. Her smile, so rare these days, was slow to grow on her face. It was moments like this- -when the little witch looked like _that_- -that Sirius could see why James would move the Heavens and charge into the very depths of Hell…all for this woman, this breathtakingly beautiful woman. There were a million descriptions of angels, Lorelei, and Veela out there and they all paled in comparison to the beauty of a pleased mother. Sirius didn't know what Jamie did to get so lucky, but he could only wish that he would be so lucky when it came his time to choose a mate.

"I'm still working on that," Lily answered, only slightly less confident. "I have a few ideas of where I would like to go and Al and I have been praying for guidance and strength. I think I'm close though."

"Blood magic?"

"My blood- -possibly James' as well. Alice has volunteered hers as well." She rubbed one hand over her bulging belly. She didn't mention the tiny vial of Severus' blood that she was planning on including. He had given it to on her thirteenth birthday for 'in case of emergency'. She never knew why she had kept it all these years. "I just need to work on the anchor point. I'm think perhaps a rune or rune array."

"You know, Lil- -I think we might just be able to do this."

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Kreacher seemed immune to the tension that filled the study as he continued to hold his prize in the air with a huge grin splitting his face in half. It was not until the house elf began to wilt a little that Harry managed to find the will to move. To the great amusement of Ron, Harry grabbed Kreacher and swung him into his arms, careless of the blood and soot that would stain his clothes. All the while, they were doing their impromptu dance, Harry kept up a litany of praise. He was going over the top and he knew it. Harry also knew that Kreacher would scold him about things becoming of a young lord when he was finally released. The sheer relief that they now had a Horcrux in their possession was fueling his actions. Kreacher deserved a little praise now and again.

But the tension caused by Lupin's presence was dissipating like fog under the heat of the sun. Ron was beating on the table before him as he let out loud booms of laughter. Hermione had both hands covering her mouth in a vain attempt to stifle her giggles. Her wand was giving out little bursts of blue light not quite formed enough to be called sparks. Even Lupin had a shy smile on his face.

Finally, Harry allowed Kreacher to squirm out of his arms. The tiny house elf had an expression as if he could not decide between outrage at his treatment and smugness at his success. Harry just grinned at him, causing Kreacher's shallow cheeks to flush a deeper green. The old creature snapped his fingers and vanished, presumably back to his little nest or the kitchen. Harry had noticed that Kreacher cooked when he was upset. Thus Harry found himself standing in the middle of the study with a Horcrux in his hand and all eyes focused on him. He had to swallow hard before speaking.

"Look, Lupin- -just go home to your wife," Harry said. He winced at the words as soon as they left his mouth. Well, no one said this was going to be easy. "It's not that we don't appreciate the offer of help- -we do, very much- -but I can't be responsible for you ditching your expecting wife. This is a time that we need to be united- -"

"All the more reason to accept my help, Harry," Lupin interrupted. It was not as smoothly as what Snape was capable of, nor as affable as what the Headmaster used to do. All the pressure and paradigm shifts that had happened in the last three months chose that moment to make themselves felt. Harry did what any teenager, even the ones who were supposed to be adults, would do under that circumstance. He got angry.

"Oh, really? Are you in that much of a hurry to die? Because that's what happens to those that try to help me! Dumbledore spent his last precious spell making sure that I couldn't interfere with his plans- -he died. Sirius came to save me- -he died. Hell- -even Mad-Eye is gone! I'm leaving a string of bodies behind me and it goes back to my own parents! Speaking of whom- -don't you think it would have been a good idea to actually _tell_ me about the boxes of their stuff in the attic?"

Silence fell after his question. It seemed as loud as his voice had been just moments before when he had been shouting. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kreacher phase into the room in the shadows cast by the divan. The old elf looked positively murderous and Harry was thankful that his bulbous eyes were focused on Lupin. Ron just looked baffled at Harry's declaration as did Lupin. It was Hermione that acted first. Which made sense when Harry thought about it later. She was a girl after all.

"Oh, _Harry,_" she said as she crossed the room and took him into her arms. The witch pulled him close in a tight hug that would have put any from Mrs. Weasley to shame. If it weren't for the wand poking him in the side of his head, it would have been the best hug he had ever had. At least the wand was still sparking. That would have been bad. "Harry, you know that none of that was your fault, right?"

"Hermione's right, Harry," Lupin put in softly. "They didn't die just because of you. They died defending what was right. As for the stuff in the attic… well, do you mean the boxes that Sirius had me pull from his vault when he moved back into this place? They're from your parents'? I didn't know that. If you don't mind me asking, what's in them?"

"Stuff," Harry said into Hermione's shoulder. He felt a strange quiver go through his friend as she made a quiet choking noise before tapping him in the ear with her wand. He pulled back to look at her. She was struggling to frown at him. From somewhere- -he wasn't sure where, perhaps his father's genes- -he felt the urge to wink at her. So he did. She quickly turned away to face the former professor, her eyes twinkling suspiciously.

"It was mostly books, sir," Hermione answered, her tone jovial as if she hadn't hit the man not ten minutes ago. "It also contained pictures...of Harry before that Halloween. Sir, do you remember how he got his scar? He has it in a bunch of the pictures which would be impossible if it were a curse scar caused by the Killing Curse."

"James said that he got a hold of Sirius' wand," Lupin replied uneasily. He shifted his weight slightly as if he would take a step back or turn. Harry's eyes narrowed in suspicion. The werewolf held up his hands in surrender. "I swear that was what he told me. Not only did you get that scar, but Lily spent the next while in bed from magical exhaustion. I have never seen James and Sirius so worried before. They took nothing serious, not even the war. Even Frank was worried. Alice wasn't, however. Not even when the Healers had to give you potions due to the blood loss. She just held you through it."

"She did? Where was Mum?"

"Another part of St. Mungo's," the werewolf answered, looking nervous again. Then he looked concerned. "Harry, you must understand that it was an accident. They happen to all children. In the end, everyone was fine. You were cranky for a few days and Lily was on bed rest for about two weeks, but that was all. Children get a hold of their caretakers' wands all the time. You just nabbed one early. That's all."

"How- -how old was I?"

"Seven months."

Harry felt his knees start to give out. Suddenly the chair pushed against the back of his legs. Harry was grateful for something to sink into and knew that it was Kreacher's doing. Especially when the house elf in question asked him anxiously if there was anything he needed in between glares at Lupin. Harry waved off his concern and placed his elbows on his thighs, leaning forward in attempt to still the spinning in his head.

He was seven months old when he had almost killed both his mother and himself. Seven months...most children were only babbling at that age, pulling up on things. He was an attempted murderer. Harry knew that he was ignoring Lupin's reassurances that it was only an accident, but honestly what could have caused such a reaction? He felt warmth settle on the floor beside him before fingers began to card through his hair. It did far more to anchor him to the present than the arguing going on in the background. Her soft words of comfort were really without meaning, but still meant so much to his addled mind despite that.

He almost wished his scar was from Voldemort. Knowing that it came from an incident that almost killed him and his mother was somehow worse...far worse.

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Author's Note: All blood magick is just as Sirius described it: _**Dark.**_ Even if the blood is given consensually (highly recommended). Doesn't mean _evil_, just means it draws power from the darker aspects of things. I do not recommend it for dabblers and beginners for that as well as what is its main draw: it's potent. It could just as easily turn against you as work. I encourage al witches to practice safe magick, regardless of their religious creed. /Lecture.

Thanks again to all readers, especially those who have taken the time to review as well. I would to point out again that I am working without an outline and each chapter is written the week preceding its posting. If you suggest something and it's possible within the scope of the story, I will try to include it. You might even inspire a companion story.

That being said, I'm not currently planning on any pairing to occur in this story beyond the obvious Lily/James, Alice/Frank, and Remus/Tonks, however. Any pairing that might occur beyond that is spontaneous on the part of the characters. [tetchy voice] ...please don't involve me in the 'ship wars...


	4. Eihwaz

Disclaimer: I'm starting to see why I normally do the minimum with these… Okay, well, this is Magi, not Joann. I don't own the sandbox or even the sand. I just make the castle within the sandbox and who would buy a sandcastle?

This chapter is brought to you by sewing needles. Without these clever tetchy instruments of mass destruction, my daughters' stuff animals would have had to have been retired ages ago. Don't know how to sew? Google a tutorial today! It's a priceless skill.

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><p>Lily stood in the doorway of the tiny office that belonged to Frank Longbottom, uncertainly. She had never visited him at work before though she had been to the Auror Department many times to visit James or Sirius. Frank's office, for all that it was smaller than the joint one shared by her husband and his best friend, was easily twice as cluttered. Books covered almost every available surface- -including some that boggled her muggle-raised mind. Seriously, who stacks books on top of a ficus? The stack had been there long enough that the poor thing had grown around the magic that supported it. The walls were covered in sketches of varies runes and rune arrays that Frank had dealt with over his tenure as the Auror Department's Rune Master. Lily could only see the wood paneling of the wall in three small places. Slightly off center was a mahogany desk almost too large for the space. Surprisingly, the only books on it were open and in use.<p>

Frank looked very similar to James. They both had the same nose and cheekbones. If Lily remembered James' mother's lessons about family lines correctly, the two men were something like second cousins on their fathers' side, which explained the similarities. While James had dark sable hair that refused to behave, Frank had light brown hair that he kept short enough that he didn't have to mess with it in the mornings. They young lord had a pair of glasses perched upon his aquiline nose as he switched between reading one of the tomes open before him and scribbling notes on the roll of parchment at his left elbow. His quill, a short eagle feather, brushed his cheek causing him to rub at it, haphazardly smearing ink in the process.

Harry chose that moment to gurgle in his sleep.

Lily found herself facing down a wand for a moment before Frank's startled brown eyes warmed with recognition. He grinned in welcome before flicking the wand towards the stack of books filling the chair in front of the desk. Magically, the stack danced through the air to join the smaller stack upon the ficus. Honestly, she had half a mind to let Alice know that her husband was abusing the poor thing.

"Sorry for the mess," Frank said as Lily settled into the chair. Little Harry moved his head restlessly against her chest as she did so. Already habitually, Lily rubbed his tiny back soothingly. Frank cleared his throat as he gave a little motion with his want that Lily recognized as the silence ward that was preferred by the Order. Therefore she was not surprised when he asked about a sensitive topic. "Are you sure you should be out alone? Harry fit the timing better than Neville did. You-Know-Who is certain to want him more."

"I floo'ed directly here and plan to return the same way. He won't get a chance. Look, I need your help with an array. I can't get it to stick to the object." Everything in her rebelled at calling Harry an object, but if there was a way to get the information without letting Frank in on the secret, then she had to try. The less people who knew, the better. "Also I need to know if there's anything you think I could change to possibly make it smaller- -it won't fit on the object and I can't enlarge it due to delicacy." She removed the detailed diagram from the baby bag she had set on the floor beside her seat. Wordlessly, he took it began looking it over.

"Hmm," he muttered before adjusting his glasses a bit. "What are you trying to do exactly? I mean, obviously protect something from…well, pretty much everything short of friendly fire- -I've never thought of using a luck rune that way, by the road." He looked up at her over the glasses, not quite meeting her eyes. His tone stayed faintly inquiring and utterly undemanding. "I particularly like this set here- -turn any contact with the _object_ with the intent to destroy it into a painful burn. Best defense is a good offense, after all. I think I know a few runes that when used in conjunction should make it harvestable by the _object_. As for the size problem, perhaps it would be best to wait a bit." This time his eyes met hers. His expression was calm, accepting in a way that Lily was only used to from Alice. "He should be big enough in about six months. Eostar would be a good time for this type of magic anyway."

"Alice told you," Lily stated, equally calm despite her inner panic. If both Frank and Sirius knew, it was only a matter of time before James found out about her plan. It felt wrong, this reluctance to involve him in this project, but she knew his stance on anything resembling the Dark Arts. Hellfire, she was surprised the Potters even had a Dark section in their library, let alone one so extensive. Harry snuffled against his fist as if sensing her worry.

"About a month ago," Frank confirmed. He took off his glasses and set both them and her diagram on the book in front of him. Leaning back in his chair and folding his hands together, he looked every inch a scholar rather than a warrior. Even knowing just how deadly he could be with that wand of his, Lily was not intimidated. Frank would never hurt a woman. "Lily, I know I don't have to tell you that what you are planning is risky. You could die empowering those runes. By all that's sacred, what do you think that would do to Alice? Or James? Little Harry? Do you want your son to grow up without his mother?"

"Of course not! But as long as he grows up, I will do anything."

"Will you listen to yourself! You're as bad as Alice- -"

"I seem to recall a new series of wards that was placed upon a certain manor, Mr. Pot," Lily said dryly. It had a bit more bite than she usually used with the man that married the witch that might as well be her sister, but Lily felt no need to apologize to him or justify her decision. The auror let his head fall forward to his hands with a groan. Harry gave a little sigh and lily felt him get a little heavier in the snugglie that kept him against her chest as he sank deeper into sleep. Frank echoed the sound a moment later.

"Your array looks fine," Frank finally continued, choosing to accept the truce. The fact that he had spent a month in bed from magical exhaustion after powering all the warder arrays _by himself_ would remain unsaid for now so long as he ceased complaining about Lily and Alice's obsessions with protecting their young. He picked up his glasses and placing them back on his nose, began to look over her array once more. "It will need a spate run to act as an anchor for the entire thing." His eyes met hers over his glasses again. "It would need to be scratched into the skin- -nothing deep, but it will need to scar to help to anchor it further. If the anchor rune is at a core point, it will make for a more powerful array. The more prominent the anchor, the harder it will be to hide it though. Lily, are you certain you wish to do this?"

Lily closed her eyes in contemplation. Frank knew she had been praying with Alice for the last several months. She knew what he was really asking: did she truly feel that this was the method she was being led towards? Lily knew how crazy the question would seem to anyone else. How could claiming divine inspiration not see crazy, after all? She felt Harry's steady breathing beneath her hand and the soft tap that was his mighty little heartbeat. The same certainty that had guided her creation of the array filled her. She reopened her eyes and met his firm gaze.

"Yes," she answered with all the conviction she could muster.

The single word hung in the air between the two friends, a promise of greatness and a blessing of unending love.

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"Next week's Halloween," Ron announced as the trio started on breakfast. Harry didn't look up from the book he was reading about runic arrays used to make permanent effects. He had a good feeling about this book as it had several pages dog-eared and notes in a tidy feminine hand that he was calling his mother's, though he had no proof either way. Feeling Hermione's gaze upon the top of his head, he took a bite of his eggs followed by a bite of his tomatoes. It wouldn't do to make the witch angry with him. The lack of enthusiasm for his announcement did not deter Ron in the slightest. "I miss the feast at Hogwarts. The pumpkin pastries weren't as good as my mother's, but they were pretty good. Do you think Kreacher knows how to make pumpkin pastries?"

"Only you, Ron, could think about giving that poor elf more work," Hermione started, though Harry could still feel her gaze on him. He frowned in thought before taking a few more bites of his breakfast followed by a long swallow of tea. Harry felt a hand pulling gently on his book. "Harry, tell him that Kreacher does enough around here without having to worry about Halloween."

"Well, it would be up to Kreacher, wouldn't it? I don't know if he knows how to make pumpkin pastries, though if he does, I'm sure they're smashing because everything he makes is great. Much better than I would make, at any rate," Harry replied, annoyed, before addressing the shadows of the doorway where he could sense the bright speck of magic that was a house elf. "Isn't that right, Kreacher?"

"Master is very smart for a halfblood," Kreacher replied with a grin that would have fit better on Dobby's face. "Kreacher's mistress loved pumpkin pasties. Kreacher's pumpkin pasties are much better than those of any blood traitor scum."

"Kreacher, remember what we discussed about being mean? You're doing it again. You're getting better though. It's been a whole week since you talked like that. Now would you be willing to make pumpkin pastries for Halloween next week?" Harry diligently ignored both the "pasties" image that popped into his head and Ron's reddening face. He kept his green eyes focused on Kreacher. He was not disappointed by the little elf's enthusiastic nod.

"Kreacher would be happy to make a Samhain feast for Master and his friends. What would Master like? Kreacher makes great moon cakes and Dark Goddess cake- -Hunter stew? Oh, Kreacher is so pleased that Master is going to honor his great ancestors like a proud pureblood. Kreacher was worried, whats with the company Master keeps- -" The house elf's large eyes flickered towards Hermione before focusing on Harry once more. "But I's pleased. Master's studies are coming along nicely."

"Er, just make whatever it is that you usually make for a sow-in feast, Kreacher," Harry answered nervously when the elf paused expectantly. "I'm sure it will be fine."

"Master is very wise. I's much to plan!" And the little being disappeared with a pop that was more felt than heard.

"Um, any idea what we're going to be eating next week? Because I've no clue what I just agreed to," Harry queried more to Hermione than to Ron. Hermione was usually the one with the answers anyway. Therefore he was a bit surprised when it was Ron that answered.

"Some families keep the old traditions," Ron answered, his earlier angry seemingly disappeared, "even if only for Halloween, or Samhain as they call it. Samhain is a time to reconnect with the lessons that our dead have taught us. The Lovegoods did a full ritual every High Holiday, but Mum and Dad didn't hold with that. Well, I should say Mum didn't- -I saw Dad do some stuff behind her back growing up; stuff that might have been the same things that Mrs. Lovegood did before she- -you know."

"So it's like Wicca?"

Harry had an image in his head of a group of naked people dancing around a fire that he had seen on the telly once before Uncle Vernon had made Dudley change the channel. That was about the extent of his information about the religion Wicca- -was it a religion, even? Maybe it was like Confucianism? His knowledge of religion was sketchy at best. The Dursleys didn't even go to church on a regular basis.

"Is that a muggle term?"

"Um," Hermione said, blinking. She and Harry looked at each other, equally confused now. Harry for his part was kind of pleased that Ron had managed to confuse the brilliant witch for once even if it meant that he was staying in the dark. Ron looked faintly shocked at his success. That shock grew as the silence did.

"The old traditions are a way of doing magic without a wand. It's not always as showy as what we can do, and is nowhere near as easy, but tends to be more potent in short bursts."

"So it's wandless magic?"

"Well, not exactly…"

Harry went back to his book, his curiosity fading just a bit. He kept half an ear on the conversation as the two went back and forth on how to classify these "old traditions" with Hermione becoming more and more frustrated as Ron seemed to contradict himself. Harry had memories of a girl with strange dice back in the last year of primary and another confusing explanation of magic. Of course, Dudley had put paid to the idea of a friend (even an odd one) almost as soon as the girl had started explaining the game's magic system.

"Divine magic?" Harry put in suddenly, not really paying attention to the fact that he was talking at all. Both his friends turned towards him, though Hermione gave a little huff as she was cut off mid-rant. "Calling on a divine figure to have a magical effect?"

"Yes, exactly! See? Harry gets it," Ron told Hermione smugly. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and smirked. Harry frowned again.

"Who would it call upon though? I don't know of any churches in the Wizarding world and I thought I read that wizards looked down on Christians due to the burnings?"

"I actually don't know," Ron answered deflating a little. "Where did you read that?"

"It was our History of Magic for the summer after second year, Ronald!"

"If you two are going to argue, I'm going to go read in the study- -"

"Blimey, mate, is that all you do lately? You're worse than Hermione!"

"The oaf- -"

"Hey!"

"- -does have a point, Harry. You're not still brooding about what Lupin told us, are you? That was a month ago."

"I am not _brooding_. I am trying to find a way to destroy the Horcrux that we have since we don't have any leads on where Hufflepuff's Cup might be."

"Tis in a Black Vault, Master," Kreacher said popping back into the room with a book. The little elf set the book on the table. He looked at Harry's half-eaten plate and back at Harry. If Kreacher had had eyebrows, one would have been raised in silent query. Harry sighed and resumed his seat to finish his meal. Seriously, the elf was worse than Hermione and Mrs. Weasley _combined_. Only after the Gryffindor had taken a couple of bites did the elf continue. "Missy Bella's vault to be exact. Shall I fetch it for Master?"

"Oh, yes, please, Kreacher- -if you would," Harry said after swallowing a Ron-sized bite of tomato and egg. He couldn't stop the grin that crossed his face. Kreacher looked just as pleased with himself as Harry was with the elf's news. "That would be great!" The house elf gave a low bow and disappeared before he was fully risen from it. Harry turned his grin towards his two friends. "Two destroyed, two in possession, two at large, and one unknown. Now if we could only destroy the ones we had and could find Ravenclaw's Diadem or even knew what it looked like- -"

"There's a picture of it in _Hogwarts, a History_. Honestly, will you two never read it?"

Ron and Harry looked at each other, a brief meeting of blue and green. Then they burst out laughing at what they had come to call Hermione's usual quirks. It felt good to laugh again. Hermione must have thought the same, because after a moment, she joined them in the laughter.

For a priceless moment, they were three teens enjoying a morning together. All thoughts of war, Dark Lords, and accidents involving wands were forgotten. It was a good moment.

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Author's Note: Okay, the chapter seems random, I know. How does this relate to furthering the plot? Good question! You just need to trust your Doctor- -which would be that man over there with the blue box named "Sexy", not me. I'm just a data entry clerk.

This is really morphing into something much longer than I originally anticipated. I truly was figuring this to be five chapters at most, but here we are at chapter four and the end is not in sight. Though I'm running out of people for Lily to talk to other than James. I wonder who will be featured next chapter.

P.S. I loved my snugglie with my youngest. Julia was, and still is, a cuddler. She was particularly bad as a baby and would not sleep unless she was close to Mommy. It drove my husband quite mad until we were able to train her to sleep in her crib for the whole night. So I would like to dedicate the snugglie mention to her.


	5. Nauthiz

Disclaimer: I own many things, including a new computer, but Harry Potter is not one of them. Sorry for any confusing.

This chapter is brought to you by Microsoft Word 2007, an excellent program which I strongly recommend for my fellow writers. Adaptable spell check and a grammar check that, while not without a few flaws, will catch most common word mistakes; both are features that will greatly benefit any writer, beginner or seasoned. It's also helpful for completing study courses and research.

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><p>Lily once more found herself hovering in a doorway watching the room's only occupant. Dorea Potter y Black was a formidable woman who Lily would always want on her side in a fight. She wore her pitch black hair in styled curls that artfully fell over one shoulder. Never had Lily seen the witch with a single curl out of place. Heavily hooded eyes of cornflower blue were focused on the tea service in front of her. Thin, long-fingered hands were folded neatly in her lap, resting <em>just so<em> upon the rich fabric of her dress. The redhead likened the image she made unto to the Queen. It did not help her nerves any.

"Well," Lady Potter said finally, still not turning to face the doorway that Lily was occupying, "I see that you continue with that degenerate behavior of _lurking_ in doorways while people await your arrival." Lily felt her face flush with embarrassed shame and a pearl of anger at the dismissive tone. Facing down James' mother was always a bit of a trial in patience. Nothing Lily did could ever melt the woman's heart towards her. Harry, though- -oh, the infant clearly had his grandmother wrapped around his tiny fingers. Besides one comment immediately after Harry's birth, Dorea never made any deranging comments about muggles or muggleborns around Harry. Still she managed to make her displeasure with her son's choice known to at least Lily. If James knew that it still went on, he never mentioned it to Lily or let it bother him. Lily's thoughts were interrupted by Dorea standing with a dignified huff of effort. Her handsome face was blank except for a thinning of her full lips as she finally turned towards her son's wife.

"Since you will not join me for tea, I will immediately get to the crux of the matter. I suspect you of behavior unbecoming of a member of this family." Dorea held up one hand, effectively silencing any protest to the contrary that Lily might have made had she not been confused as to what the older witch was referring. "I will not having your useless denials. You made vows of fidelity to my son. I do not know what this means to the muggles that raised you, however in the magical world, this means that you will give yourself to your husband only. Your despicable shenanigans with my grandnephew will cease as of now. Let me be blunt: if it continues, I will inform James and Charlus and let them handle it as they see fit. Divorce is not impossible, Miss Evans, and neither is your loss of visitation with my grandson. Your muggle blood counts against you in court for either of those things."

"I don't know what to say, Lady Potter," Lily began, her tone shocked. The outrage would come, she knew it like a well-worn shoe, but at the moment Lily couldn't get over the fact that her mother-in-law thought she was sleeping with Sirius behind James' back. Is that what it looked like from the outside? Sirius had been helping her with the runes for a while now, but surely they hadn't been spending _that_ much time together…alone… hmm. Maybe there was something to this accusation? Lily crossed about half the distance to the matriarch and lifted on hand in a gesture of pleading for understanding. "Let me assure you that nothing untoward has happened between Sirius and me. He has just been helping me with a project concerning the protection of Harry. I was not aware of how it might appear- -"

"Nonsense," Dorea interrupted, biting off the word with an unladylike amount of force. Her eyes darkened to more of a light cobalt in her anger and her lips had almost disappeared they were so thin. Not even when James had announced that he was going to marry her had Lily seen the woman so angry. "If you were anywhere near as intelligent as my son alleges that you are then you had to be perfectly aware of what your behavior might look like to an outsider observer. You are, of course, denying it now that you have been caught. I've half a mind to take this directly to Charlus. You have obviously muddled my James' mind with your loose muggle ways. Well, no more, Miss Evans. Do you hear me? I will not have this going on for any longer in my house and in my family. You will moderate your behavior into acceptable parameters and cease this tawdry _project_ that you have going on with my nephew. Protection of Harry, my right foot! How _dare_ you use my grandson's welfare as an excuse! No more, Miss Evans. No more."

"Mrs. Potter," Lily corrected through ground teeth. Her temper and magic flared at the insult that was the use of her maiden name. She felt a wisp of a breeze twirl up from the floor to lift her hair into a fiery aura around her head. Dorea did not look impressed at Lily's accidental display of magic and only let the tiny bit of her own magic loose in response. "I am a married woman with a child. I will not be referred to as a single woman as if I were the harlot you accuse me of being. That complaint aside, I will not refrain from taking any course of action that will preserve my son's life. He is my child and I will do as I feel is necessary to assure that he grows up into adulthood. We find ourselves at a crossroads, Lady Potter, as that means my continued close association with Sirius. Why don't we accept where we are and let the matter drop before you embarrass yourself?"

"You mean before I disgrace you- -"

"Lily always means what she says," James interrupted from behind Lily. Both witches turned their attention from their standoff to the Potter scion. James stood just inside the room, a reassuring sight in his auror robes. His expression was neutral with a touch of mischief to it. Lily knew that he was as serious as he ever truly got. Not a step behind him was the head of the Potter family, Charlus himself. Charlus had no hint of what he thought of finding his wife and daughter-in-law arguing _again_. Lily couldn't help the wince. Charlus did not like the tension between the two women, claiming that it gave him a fit of humors. Lily's previous anger wavered like a candle in a breeze at the thought of letting down the man who had welcomed her into the family without reservation. "One of the reasons I love her so much."

James crossed to the chair his mother had vacated at the start of her tirade. His father followed and settled into the chair before James could. The two men shared a brief look before they turned back to the women. Charlus crossed his legs at the ankles, stretching them out under the table in a picture of relaxation. James' hands gripped the back of the chair, his only show of anger. He grinned jovially at his mother after winking at Lily. When he spoke, it was as if Sirius had just told an excellent joke at which he was trying hard not to laugh.

"So, would you like to share what is going on?"

"Your _mother_," Lily said, giving the words an intention that they clearly were never meant to have, "believes that I am having an affair with your best friend." Lily did not miss the huge grin that flashed across James' face as he drew in a breath. Even knowing it was coming, she could not hold back the groan his bad joke caused.

"Are you fucking serious?"

"James!" his mother squawked outraged.

"What? It's what you're accusing her of, isn't it?"

"Yes, James, I am serious- -"

"No, you're not. You look nothing like him."

"_James_," Lily scolded. James grinned at her unabashedly before addressing his still outraged mother.

"Please, Mother, if Lily were going to have an affair, she'd have better sense than to choose _Sirius_." He gave a disarming smile to his mother. It was a good thing he did because it took the sting out his next words. "I trust both of them implicitly. If on the off-chance that my trust is misplaced and they are fucking like bunnies behind my back, I would not care. I might even ask to join them!"

With those famous last words, he stormed from the room. Lily only hesitated a moment before she followed him. The look of shocked dismay on Dorea's face was a pleasant memory that Lily would keep close to her heart. They had not gone twenty paces before they heard Dorea call out a sharp "James Charlus" which did not slow James' furious pace down one whit. Lily could barely keep up with him as they weaved through the Potter family manor.

Abruptly, he stopped, pivoting on his toes and heel. The sudden stop caused Lily to bump into his chest. Immediately, his arms came up to balance her. His hands cupped her face, turning it upwards to meet his questing lips. One hand moved from soft cheek to even softer hair. James pulled his hand back, taking the tangled lock with it. In that one smooth move, the kiss turned into a desperate demand instead of a reassurance. With their bodies flushed against each other as they were, Lily could feel his interest pressed against her stomach. A little moan of wanton need escaped her as James nipped her bottom lip before pulling away. Lily could only look at him with lust-glazed eyes. What had they been doing before that kiss again?

"Lily, I know you are up to something and that Sirius is helping," James said in a murmur as he rested his forehead against hers. He rubbed his nose against her smaller one with affection. "I don't know what it is, but I trust you. You must have a reason for not telling me and I'll honor your wisdom on the matter. Just know this, my heart's flame: I will support you, no matter what happens. You are my life, my soul, my everything. You have given me a fine son and I hope someday you will give me more children to love." He stroked her cheek in an absent soothing gesture. His fingertips traced the tears that Lily wasn't even aware of that she had begun to shed. "Whatever you think is right, we'll do…together."

And Lily told him…_everything_.

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Harry looked up from his book as Kreacher popped back into the room with the crown-thingy that he had seen in the Room of Lost Things at Hogwarts. Without him having to signal her, Hermione was already moving forward to take the item from the house elf. Scrutinizing it, she cross-referenced it with the image in _Hogwarts, a History_. Finally, her eyes met Harry's across the room and nodded. Harry didn't need to nod to confirm that it was Ravenclaw's Diadem. He could feel the dark energy rolling off of it in tiny, almost imperceptible waves. Well, at least he knew that hanging around with two horcruxes had its fringe benefits. Maybe he could hone that into something similar to the sense that Dumbledore had exhibited in the cave? Sensing people's magic could be very useful down the road. Pushing these thoughts aside for the moment, Harry stood, commanding attention of his two friends and the house elf. He held up the book he had been reading, the Black Grimoire that Kreacher had so thoughtfully brought to the kitchen yesterday morning.

"I believe that I know how to destroy the Horcruxes," Harry announced without preamble. Inside he was trembling despite his calm exterior. He was certain that Hermione knew by the slightly thoughtful frown she wore. Ron's scowl was another story. Harry had no idea what could have caused it. Fortunately, Ron was _kind_ enough to open his mouth and let them know what he was thinking.

"You want to use dark arts to get rid of You-Know-Who? How does that make us any better than _him?"_

Harry looked askance at Hermione. She was staring at Ron with a look of shocked dismay on her face. '_Okay, I'm not the only one who thinks he completely missed the point here,'_ Harry thought bitterly. He turned back to his friend. Dense though he was, Ron deserved an explanation. Harry felt his expression harden slightly into a mask of neutrality. In response to his desperate need, his magic wrapped tightly around him. He lifted his chin, a solider holding his head high as he had decided after his talk about the prophecy with Dumbledore last spring.

"I will do whatever it takes to rid the world of Voldemort forever, Ron," Harry said firmly, no trace of his trepidation or very real fear evident in his voice. Across the room, Hermione echoed his words and tone.

"Whatever it takes."

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Author's Note: Thank you for all the story and author alerts and to those who have favorite this story or myself. Double thanks to those who have followed that up with reviewing!

Now I have switched to my Wednesday update…just in time for the story to begin its conclusion. The main reason that I had to wait was I got busy this weekend with helping my players with last minute character builds and then I had game on Sunday. Yay for chaos? I guess…

So would anyone be interesting in knowing the soundtrack I'm using to write this story after I'm done? Just curious, you know.

Well, I'm off on one final note: yes, I know that the Lexicon said that Dorea was supposed to die before Harry was born. But she wanted a say in this story and well, she's kind of intimidating…would you turn her down? 

Edited 03/11/12: Little things have been changed. A reviewer commented that I was unclear how Harry was able to sense the Horcrux inside the diadem. Writer error- -I thought he had exhibited the ability to sense dark magic in _canon_. After reviewing the Chamber scene in Book 2 and the Cave scene in Book 6, I find myself mistaken (it must be _fanon_). But Harry does know that such a sense exists and _I _know that one can _learn_ to sense the energy of things, particularly if the items are "drenched" in energy as I imagine a horcrux would be. I also know that hanging around such items can affect your ability to perceive such items. I'm also guilty of thinking that because I know these things that _everybody _does. It's a common assumption, but we all know what happens when we _assume_, right? [winks and grins] So hopefully it's more clear now.


	6. Isa

Disclaimer: Due to JK Rowling misplacing her copyright paperwork, I now own Harry Potter! Yay! [S.W.A.T. shows up and grabs the paperwork form her hands] Dang it.

Chapter Warning: This chapter contains things that are ideologically sensitive such as a pagan rite and an idiot being, well, an idiot. If you are offended, I apologize but will tell you to grow up in the same breath. All flames will only serve as laugh fodder and will be treasured for prosperity.

This chapter is brought to you by EMachines and having to replace _everything_ on your hard drive and not finding your Microsoft Office Suite 2007 disc and thereby having to upgrade just to access _all_ your work. But hey, at least you can once again have an internet browser and Word open at the same time without your computer freezing up like a virgin bride on her wedding night. Where was I going with this again?...right. On with the story!

It took a couple hours to copy the runic array onto Harry's back. Lily was thankful for the sleeping draught that kept him deep asleep through the process. She relaxed back onto her heels to allow the 'ink' mixture to dry for a moment. Her green eyes examined the array, looking for any flaws. It would not do for her to start empowering the array just to have a stray drop have the entire thing backfire on her. Satisfied that it was correct, she let her mind wander as she watched the seven month old sleep on the soft baby quilt spread out on the floor at the center of figure that Alice and she had drawn earlier. The chalk diagram of two overlapping triangles surrounded by a circle glowed faintly in the flickering light emitted by the black and white candles. Each color set anchored the points of one of the triangles.

The last five months had sped by and as Frank had predicted, Harry had grown from tiny infant to, well, not-as-tiny baby. A burst of pride blossomed in her chest as she thought of how Harry had managed to climb onto the armchair just that very afternoon. Had James' parents seen it, Lily was certain that even Dorea would have given into the urge to gush with joy. Lily allowed her eyes to close as the barely healed wound caused by their loss ached a bit. Last Christmas had been hard on all of them. With Charlus and Dorea dying in the Death Eater attack on Diagon Alley just a week before the blessed holiday, no one had been in the mood to celebrate. They had made an effort for Harry and Neville's sakes, but it had fallen a bit flat. They all had vowed to do better next year.

Lily ignored the familiar foreboding that followed that thought.

"Ready, Lils?"

Lily held in the cry that had threatened to erupt at the sudden sound of Alice's voice. She still jumped, however, causing Sirius to chuckle quietly to himself. Lily looked at the group hovering in the doorway just in time to see James cuff Sirius in the back of the head. She sighed as she watched Sirius turn and toss a poorly aimed punched into James' stomach. From there, it quickly dissolved into a mock battle between the two friends as it so often did. Deciding to ignore the two overgrown children, she looked over the array one more time before answering Alice.

"It looks like it is dried now," Lily said with a nod. She rose to her feet in a single graceful move. Her emerald eyes swept over the table slash alter that held all the tools they would need for the ritual. Alice had taken care of the final purification and sanctifying of them while Lily had started on transcribing the array onto Harry's skin. Lily could feel the energy glimmering beneath their surfaces, a pulsating pureness that made it clear that they were blessed. It had taken some time (mainly exposure) before Lily had been able to recognize the difference between regular magic items and those that had magic poured into them. Hopefully, Harry would grow up with the sense.

The familiar foreboding threatened to strike at her again.

"Are you two quite done? We're about to start the ritual and you are going to wake Harry if you keep that noise up, draught or no draught," Lily groused, irritated at both the nagging fear and their antics. James and Sirius froze in their positions. James had Sirius in a headlock and it looked as if he had been giving the dog animagus a noogie. They both looked at Lily with sheepish eyes and half grins. Lily sighed and pointed to the chairs that had been strategically placed in one corner of the room for them. Finally serious, the pair broke apart and headed to their assigned spots..

Sirius and James were not participating in the ritual, only watching in case anything went wrong. Even Alice was only magical backup. The two witches had developed this ritual specifically for Lily to use with the array empowerment. It would be both a Blessing and an empowerment. It would also be Lily's first ritual done alone since she had begun following the old ways the previous summer, the summer that started this whole journey. _'Perhaps this is moment that everything had been leading up to? Everything- -every single thing- -just for this moment?'_

"Lily, I'm going to bless the circle now," Alice warned. Lily refocused upon the Now and centered herself. The redhead could feel the magic in the room grow thicker as the experienced witch called upon the Goddess to bless the circle and keep away any who would harm or disrupt the impending ritual. The brunette then went to the alter and took the silver dagger that rested there into her hands. Using the tip, she pricked herself.

Carefully but quickly, Alice added three drops of her blood to the candles set at each point. She started with the black triad and then did the white ones on her second pass around the circle. The third cycle she added the third and last drop to all six candles. As the last candle (the one directly across from Lily's position) received its third drop, the flames flared a hand high and turned a rich cerulean. Likewise, the chalk outline began to glow a pale peridot.

Alice closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. Lily found herself breathing with her. When Alice next spoke her voice was laden with the same power that permeated the room. At Lily's feet, Harry gave a surprisingly loud sigh and began to suckle his thumb again.

"With my magic and blood, I bless this circle and space.

With love and with trust, I gift it to my sister Lily.

As my Mother wills, may my strength aid Lily this night.

May my power be hers in this as it is always Yours."

The flames grew another hand as Lily felt Alice's magic connect with hers. The light emitted by the circle itself deepened to the color of oak leaves in summer. A breeze danced around the room, ruffling the drawn curtains of the window and clothing. The candle flames leaned with the might zephyr, but otherwise showed no sign of being affected. Out of the corner of her eyes, Lily saw James lean forward in his chair, interested and tense. Lily wished she had time to reassure him. But it was time to begin the ritual.

Artfully, Lily knelt beside Harry. She focused her magic in her hand. Like an echo, Lily felt Alice's magic follow the tug, filling in any gaps that her magic may have left behind. It was incredibly intimate, but not in an uncomfortable way or an unfamiliar one. Alice and Lily had shared their magic in ritual space in the past and most likely do so in the future. _'Sisters. Always.'_ Tracing the runes and pushing magic into them, Lily recited the words of the ritual. Her voice was a deep alto with the power carried upon it.

"Goddess, I call to You!

Hear me- -Your humble child.

You are the Mother of All

And have blessed me so that

I may know Your Pain and Joy.

Through Your Will, I have

The child Harry James

To love and take pride in."

Lily was about half through empowering the array now. The entire thing was beginning to glow with magic. The half that she had empowered already was a clear crimson while the other half was a murky maroon. Harry gave an annoyed grunt and his face scrunched up, but did not wake, thankfully.

"I need Your help, oh Lady of Life!

A Darkness wishes to claim my son- -

The child You entrusted to me!

I have prepared him with a spell of protection

And I pledge that I will die before allowing _any,_

Be they kith or kin, friend or foe,

To harm him

If it be within my power."

The entire array now shone with the rich red light. Lily reached out her free hand. Instantly, she felt the cool hilt of the athame in her palm as Alice handed it to her. With cool detachment that belied the depth of her emotions (this would be the most difficult part for any mother), she lightly scratched the anchor rune, _sowilo,_ onto Harry's forehead as centered as she could get it without turning him onto his back. Blood swelled up from the tiny lightning shaped cut. Lily gave a tiny sigh of relief before she pricked her right thumb and pressed her own cut against the three lines, mingling their blood.

"I make this promise upon the very blood and magic

That flows from You to me.

I ask that You honor my pledge

With Your own unfathomable power

Strengthening the protection I give my son this night.

May our Wills be one and the same."

With those closing words, all the power that had filled Lily rushed out of her body and through her physical contact with the baby, into Harry. Spots filled her vision as the world lurched and swirled. Then there was light- -blinding and warm, so very warm like sunshine upon her face. Through the crashing waves that filled her senses, Lily heard a frightened cry from Harry.

Acting on instinct and spatial memory, she reached out for her son, the athame having been set aside as she had spoken. There was a moment of panic when all she found was blanket. He had been there- -she had been _touching_ him not five seconds before! She blinked rapidly, desperate to regain use of her eyes to find her son. All the while, magic swirled and danced around mother and child. It cycled through a rainbow of colors as it kept the other occupants of the room from interfering.

Lily felt a drop of moisture hit her hand at the same moment that her eyes cleared. Harry was floating slightly from the power that filled his small form. Blood was running down his face from the anchor rune. His eyes were wide and darkened with sleep and fright. He was reaching his little hands to her. She grabbed him and pulled him in close to her body. He gave one last cry of "Ma" as he snuggled against her breast and relaxed back into sleep.

The magic that had been so wild swirled around the room once more before dissipating as if it never was. As if by teleportation, James was beside her and pulling them into his arms. Grateful for someone else to be the strong one, Lily relaxed into his arms. That magic that had disappeared had been all that had been keeping her going. Much of her power had been used by the ritual.

"I think we need to get you checked out," James said, worry and fear evident in his voice. Lily couldn't find the strength to say anything as the blackness of unconsciousness swallowed her. Somewhere deep within her soul, she knew the ritual had been a success.

That was all she needed at the moment.

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The next week was difficult for Harry's nerves. No amount of coaxing could compel Ron to help with the purification rite that Harry had found. Harry easily recognized that Ron was planting his feet on the matter by the end of the first day's conversation. Hermione was either oblivious to the stance the redhead was taking or angry enough to be ignoring it. As the week progressed, their arguments got louder and more volatile. It did not take long for things from the past to be brought into the heated discussions, which in turn caused the volume to rise even higher.

It was not until Ron went for his wand that Harry decided to interfere. With speed he could only accredit to the hours spent practicing with the DA, Harry had Ron bound in ropes and dangling upside down in the air. He then turned his glare towards Hermione who had the withal to at least look ashamed of her childish behavior. She looked down and took a deep breath. Harry watched as she counted to herself as she let it slowly out in the calming ritual he had notice her beginning to use during Umbridge's tenure as Defense professor. Knowing that she had it well in hand, he turned back to Ron whose face had turned a flushed red to match his hair. Harry had the feeling that it _was not_ because of embarrassment.

Harry felt his own temper rise in response. The last almost three months of captivity had frayed his already thin control—Harry was, and perhaps always would be, a creature of action and that side of him was currently at war with the small but determined part that was determined to see Voldemort defeated. Gryffindor tactics wouldn't do that—they only got people killed or hurt needlessly. He was _trying_ to follow the wisdom of his Slytherin side and make judicious use of his time and resources. It didn't change the fact that he craved the act of _doing something_—It had taken a long, difficult night to steel himself against the idea of storming the Ministry to get the locket from Umbridge or some plan that was equally fool-hardy but far more courageous than taking Kreacher up on his offer to attempt to get the horcrux back.

"Now," Harry questioned, attempting to reign in his temper which was clawing like a mad beast to be freed, "can we discuss this like reasonable adults, or are we going to fight among ourselves like Voldemort wants?"

"And you'd know what he wants, wouldn't you! All that studying you've been doing—those are dark arts texts. I'm not stupid, you know!"

"No one said that," Hermione protested loudly. Ron rushed on as if he hadn't heard her. Magic began to gather in the downstairs parlor. Harry had the feeling that this would not end well, but might just provide the action that he was craving. Suddenly, he didn't want it quite so badly. He did not lower Ron or untie him, just in case. The wizard in question didn't seem to care that he was upside down as he shouted his next words.

"And now—and now you want to do a dark ritual! And you're trying to drag me and Hermione into the pit with you!"

"It's not a dark ritual," Harry said after heaving a dramatic sigh. Carefully, he turned Ron right side up and lowered him to the ground. Perhaps, if he was destined to repeat himself, his audience might appreciate that more in a more dignified position. Harry frowned, only half in concentration, as he continued. "At least, I don't think so. It's a purification rite. It should strip the dark energy from the Horcruxes and thereby destroy them. That's what Dumbledore wanted me to do—what you guys said you wanted to help with!"

"What have there been to help with," Ron demanded. He used his newly restored freedom to put his fists on his hips. Harry had a suddenly absurd memory of Mrs. Weasley in the same position as she scolded the twins about their pranks. This image was followed with one of Ron wagging his finger at Harry like a mother scolding her errant child. The idea was ridiculous and did not help him deal with his irate friend. "You just send that damned elf to get the Horcruxes like you can't be bothered with it! Merlin's saggy Y-fronts! You're turning into _Malfoy_!"

"I take it back," Hermione hissed like a wet cat before Harry could say anything. Harry bit the inside of his cheek to keep from interrupting her. He had learned back in sixth year not to interrupt a mad Hermione. It wasn't good for a man's health. "That has got to be the stupidest thing I've ever heard. There is no way that Harry would be turning into that ferret-faced, pompous, irritating, annoying, bigoted—"

"That's not the point, Hermione!" Ron erupted, having clearly not learned the same lesson as Harry. Harry noticed Hermione shifting her grip on her wand and wondered if she would conjure more birds to attack the redhead. The memory unexpectedly cheered him and dissipated his anger at Ron a bit. It was not much, mind you—just enough to take away the red haze that was threatening to consume him. "The point is that we should not be just hiding away and sending a _house elf_ into danger! We should be fighting _You-Know-Who_!"

"And what would be the point of that, Ron?" Harry had growled the question out before he could help himself. The red haze threatened to return. He wanted Voldemort dead as much as the next person, but the Dark Lord could not be killed yet! Ron knew this and he would still have them throw away their lives? That would practically assure that the war was over, yes, but they would not have won anything. "We have to be able to kill him before we move against him—which means we have to destroy his anchors first. We are the only ones who know about them. If we die, no one will know what needs to be done to kill Voldemort—oh, get over it! It's a name, nothing more."

Harry didn't understand this obsession with not referring to Voldemort's real name—well, not his _real_ name, but at least what he is commonly known as. Dumbledore said it best when he said that the fear of a name increases the fear of the object or something along those lines. Even Hermione could now say the name without stuttering. Why couldn't Ron get with the program already?

"Harry, you know that it's difficult for him," Hermione started as if out of habit and sounding inexplicably tired. "He was raised with the foolish fear of that ridiculous name. He didn't just adopt it like I did. It would be harder for him to unlearn the bad habit of flinching. Though I would think that he would at least try, being a _Gryffindor_ and all."

The way she said the last bit reminded Harry of the time he heard Piers Polkiss call another member of Dudley's gang a poofer for not wanting to beat up that primary school kid back before fifth year. Harry was not surprised to see Ron's red face beginning to take on hints of purple. Maybe he's now too in touched with his Slytherin side because it was starting to look good to get out of the line of fire. If there was one thing that Ron hated, it was having his bravery questioned.

"I think that might have been a bit below—" Harry started only to be interrupted by Mount Ron.

"Now see here: I'm not the one in question here. That's Harry! He's the one going dark like a _Slytherin_!"

"I'm not going—"

"Oh, yeah? Well, you know what? I DON'T CARE! I would rather be _dark_ and have Voldemort dead than to let him live because I was too _good_ and _pure_ to do what was necessary to destroy him." Hermione crossed her arms a triumphal expression on her face. Her wand was giving off those funny blue bursts again. Harry moved backwards out from between the pair, but kept his wand out and at ready. "I have personally looked over this ritual. Nothing about it will compromise _my_ virtue or my _honor_. I have every confidence that it will do exactly what Harry thinks it will. So, guess what, Ron: I'm going to keep my promise and help Harry with it. AND YOU CAN BLOODY WELL SOD OFF FOR ALL I CARE!"

With that parting line, she spun on her toes and apparated on the spot. The crack was particularly loud and disgruntled. There was silence for a moment before Ron let out an equally loud roar of rage and stomped out of the room via the door. The stomping continued up the stairs to the bedroom that he and Ron had shared the summer before fifth year and that Ron now had to himself. The slammed door was a bit childish, but Harry could understand how Ron felt. Kreacher wandered through the parlor not a moment afterwards. He was muttering about the blood traitor disrespecting his Family's house.

Harry didn't bother correcting the slur, but sank into an armchair handily placed behind him. He rubbed his forehead as he fervently hoped that Hermione had cooled down by the time they would have to start the ritual tomorrow. It would be hard enough without Ron. Harry didn't think he could do it without Hermione's help.

Halloween was going to be a _long_ day.

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Author's Note: So I actually wrote this chapter backwards. I wrote the Harry scene before the Lily one. Which is ironic because I had a reviewer on the last chapter comment about Kreacher getting all the Horcruxes and I had just written the disgruntled Ron. [shrugs] Well, I was going to try to include both rituals in the same chapter so that I only had to put the chapter warning up once, but the Trio needed to do this first. I hate being a method writer sometimes.

I would also like to point out that Lily's ritual would most like never happen in real life. Runes don't get used like that in real magick. So don't go carving up kids or thinking that witches do that. Because we don't. Even the crazy Wiccans don't do that. [grins and ducks a blow from her mother-in-law] But seriously, I encourage _all_ to practice safe magick. KK? Good.

Thank you for all the favorites and reviews. I look forward to hearing from y'all.

~Magi


	7. Pethro

Disclaimer: [insert witty way of saying that the obvious facts concerning ownership and potential income here]

This chapter is brought to you by the perfect coffee mug. You never know how important a single cup is until you don't have its steady weight in your hands. Then you proceed to spend an hour and a half in a dusty warehouse picking up and setting down mug after mug, searching for the perfect mixture of color, heft, and drinkability. Goddess bless Old Time Pottery and its vast and varied selection of ceramics.

Chapter Warning: This chapter contains things that are ideologically sensitive such as a pagan rite and a teenage male being a teenage male. If you are offended, I apologize but will tell you to grow up in the same breath. All flames will only serve as laugh fodder and will be treasured for prosperity.

* * *

><p>The play-park was loud with the glorious noise of children enjoying themselves. Even in the little warded section that was hosting Neville and Harry's birthday party was filled with the floating laughter and shrill screams of delightful mock battles. Molly's boys were making a competition out how much noise they could make compared to the muggles outside the wards, especially the precocious twins who despite being barely out of toddler years themselves were causing all sorts of problems for their oldest brother. The sun smiled cheerfully upon the celebrating crowds. Knots of conversing adults were wonderful islands for the children to run around and the little sandbox conjured for the event was popular with the toddlers.<p>

Lily sighed happily and felt the yoke of fear caused by the war lift from her. This was a slice of normalcy and just what she needed. Instinctively, her eyes sought out her son, but he was happily playing with the toy dragon that Frank had given him for his birthday. The tiny spouts of flame that the dragon made had her concerned despite knowing about the build-in Tickling Charm. But despite it all, at this very moment, that was her only fear.

"Lily," Alice said quietly. Lily turned towards her friend and smiled, intent on sharing this newly-discovered peace. Like ice before the flame, her smile melted at the look on her sister's face. The round face had a sorrowful look upon it, unnaturally placed to all who knew that woman's kind and joyful heart. Alice's brown eyes shimmered in the warm sunlight and Lily _knew_ that shimmer was from unshed tears. "Lily, can we talk? Away from the crowd?"

Lily nodded her assent. The pair quickly slipped down a tree-lined path and around a curve. They could still hear the noise that the children made, but it was now muffled by the trees and growth. Lily waited for her best friend to begin to speak and when she didn't, the redhead grew even more concerned.

"What's this about, Al? What's wrong?"

"I…The Mother came to me last night," the brunette started. Her voice was so soft that Lily moved closer to hear her better. Alice swallowed hard and took a deep breath. She hugged herself as if she had a chill. Lily touched the crossed arms, causing Alice to meet her gaze. She smiled with reassurance that she did not feel. Alice's pale lips twitched as if she was trying to smile back, but had failed. Alice continued, but her voice, for all that it was stronger, lacked emotion. "She told me that Harry was the child that the prophecy spoke of and that She would protect him as you had asked…She said that his life would not be easy as those we trusted would betray us. Lily…I think you need to be more specific in your and James' will about where Harry should go…and _not _go. The Mother warned me against Albus Dumbledore; She said he did not have Harry's best interests at heart."

"What does Dumbledore have to do with anything? We're neighbors, of a sort, and we work together in the Order, but why would he have anything to do with Harry?" Lily was confused. It was not that she doubted Alice's vision. It would not be the first time that the Goddess had visited the faithful witch about something and since she had started praying with Alice, Lily had grown to believe in those visitations even more. But the warning didn't make sense. "Harry goes to Sirius if anything happens to us; to you if anything happens to Sirius. Where else would he go?"

"Petunia," Alice spat. Lily felt an answering wave of anger. Petunia had been very hateful at her wedding and had declared her intent to never again contact Lily before she had left. Despite not having magic of her own, magic had recognized that they were sisters no more. Then cold fear replaced the anger as the thought of Harry in the woman's custody.

"He couldn't- -she's not related! Even if she fought for him, she couldn't get him." The words lacked the strength of conviction. The little voice that forecast doom and nothing else gleefully pointed out that wills could be sealed by order of the Wizengamot of which Dumbledore was head. Lily was distinctively nervous and could not think of any way to change that fact. "Will he be safe?"

"_Lily,_" Alice growled, "that's not the point! _Petunia_ could get Harry."

"What did She say?"

"She said he'd be safe- -that She would protect him, but Lily, _Petunia_."

"We just- -we just need to have faith that She just has it handled. Isn't that what you're always telling me? Have faith?"

The tears that Alice had been holding back began to trickle down her cheeks. The brunette lost the desperate look and gained an air of defeat in its place. Lily tightened her grip on her coven-sister and pulled her close. Lily rested her chin on Alice's shoulder as they both cried, for the death they knew was coming and the childhood that Harry would not enjoy should he go to Petunia. Sometimes, certainty was the hardest part of having faith.

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Harry looked at the book he had open on the floor near where he was kneeling. With a critical eyes, he compared his drawn circle with the diagram in the Black Grimoire. The square that was half the size of the surrounding circle glinted in the candlelight as if it were a steel cage containing some terrible beast rather than a chalk shape. Coming out of the center of each of the square's sides was a straight line capped by a sharp arch. There was barely an inch between the curved top of the arches and the wider, gentler curve of the encompassing circle. The Horcruxes sat in the center of it all like some kind of offering. The magic that rolled off of them seemed to be contained within the square, relieving the revolting feelings of helpless anger and restlessness that had been bothering him.

It had not realized just how much that magic might have been influencing him until its subtle voice was silenced. It was like turning off a radio whose volume was just below hearing range. Things just seemed cheerier. Unfortunately, in the absence of anger, his nerves were threatening to mutiny.

A quiet murmur caught his attention and caused him to give Hermione an anxious look. The witch in question was arranging the items necessary for the first step of the ritual while referencing the journal that harry had found amongst the boxes in the attic. Harry hadn't paid any attention to it beyond noting the fact that it seemed to be a hodgepodge of handwritten information and pages of what looked like duplicated pages from other books added seemingly randomly throughout the moderately sized volume, but Hermione seemed particularly taken with it…though she never did say why.

'_Hmm. Note to self, ask later,_' Harry commented inwardly.

Her light blue dressing gown seemed pale and flimsy in the flickering light cast from the candles in the scones on the wall. It reminded Harry of the gown she had worn to the Yule Ball in their fourth year—a truly odd thought considering what they would soon be doing. Naked.

'_Oh, God_.'

Harry swallowed around the thickness in his throat at that realization. Even knowing that they would not be doing anything remotely resembling the things that he and Ginny had gotten up to in the various broom closets of Hogwarts, harry had a nervousness similar to what he had felt the first time Ginny had pulled him into one of the aforementioned cramped spaces for a vamp session. He had never seen a girl naked in real life (though he had seen some fetching birds in Dean's skin magazines and groping Ginny in the darkness did inspire his imagination). He had just never even thought that Hermione—his bossy bookworm of a friend—would be the first.

Not that he had ever doubted Hermione's feminineness. It was just…well, she was Hermione. She had always been there through everything, even when Ron had turned his back or acted like a prat. She always seemed to know exactly what he needed, even if it were a smack to the back of the head. It seemed wrong to label that or use her as fodder for what his Aunt Petunia called '_perverse thoughts_'. The thought of his aunt brought to mind that odd expression she had had when she told him farewell and was also highly effective at redirecting blood flow away from his groin which had taken a vested interest in the thought of Hermione's curvy form, groping, and broom closets.

"Ready?"

Harry blinked away from his internal thoughts to meet Hermione's warm eyes. She gave him a small, tight smile. One part of her bottom lip disappeared beneath pearly white teeth as she worried it. Somehow, knowing that his normally very confident friend was just as nervous as him about the prospect of what they were about to do bolstered his own confidence. Never underestimate the power of kindred spirits. He nodded at her, but made no move to remove the dressing gown that he wore over his boxers.

Their eyes met again as the nervous tension wound tighter between them. Then Hermione got the strangest look on her face. Her brown eyes crossed as if she was looking at something on her nose and she stuck her tongue out at him. As quickly as the expression appeared, it was gone again, leaving Hermione looking at him as innocently serious as Luna after she mentioned some odd creature. The entire experience was silly to the point of Harry expecting some random guy in a uniform to appear and scold them. The fact that it was _Hermione_, straight-laced Hermione, who made the face made it even funnier. Harry couldn't help his reaction. He burst out with a bark of laughter that quickly morphed into a gale. Hermione followed with ladylike snickers.

"There now," Hermione said after their laughter had abated somewhat, though she still sounded a bit winded. "Isn't that better? Are we ready now?"

"I think so," Harry gasped. His lips were stretched into a wide grin the like of which he hadn't felt like doing since Dumbledore had died and the war became _real_. He took a deep breath and let it out, attempting to regain the serious mindset. His hands settled onto the belt's knot. "Um, so how do you want to…you know?"

"I think it would be easier if you came over here—around, not through, Harry! You don't want to disturb the circle's energy. Good. Now, I'll cast the spell on you first so that you can see it one last time. Um…we'll need to be out of the robes…"

Their eyes met again though the tension didn't return. Their bout of laughter seemed to have settled their mutual nerves enough that they weren't going to pass out from embarrassment. Unfortunately, Harry, being the teenage boy that he was, felt a stirring at the thought of 'naked woman' regardless of what he felt about said possessor of nakedness. He felt his face begin to turn the color of Ron's hair. The thought of his other best friend was enough to still that stirring—thankfully. This would have been a terrible time to find out _that_ about himself.

"Rock, Paper, Scissors—for who goes first, I mean?"

"Or you could be a gentleman and offer to go first," Hermione teased lightly with a gentle fist press to his shoulder. Harry gave her a pout, but began to undo the belt of his dressing gown without any other protest. It took less than a minute to slip off both articles of clothing that he had worn during the preparations. He sat them aside easily and looked back at Hermione, prepared to issue a challenge for her to do the same only to find that while he had been focusing on removing his shorts, she had been shedding her own dressing gown. That was not the only thing that Harry had discovered in that moment as his mind gleefully informed his hormone addled imagination.

Hermione was most definitely, without a doubt and without reservation, a woman.

"Erg," he said as he choked on his breath. Hermione turned away to reach for their wands as if unaware of the fact that her best friend was seriously contemplating how much he respected her versus how very toss-worthy her form was under her cloths. If he had had any blood left for cognitive purposes at the moment, Harry might have been more than a tad bit envious of how comfortable she was within her own skin. '_Oh, Ron's gonna kill me,_' was Harry's only other thought.

"Ioncuimil," Hermione said, pointing her wand at Harry with a flourish. All thoughts of wanking left him as the spell washed over him like a wave of sandpaper. Despite having bathed earlier so thoroughly that he made an obsessive-compulsive person seem tame, it felt like the necessary purification spell was taking off a thick layer of skin. He understood the need to be completely 'purified' before attempting to purify the artifacts with the ritual, but _damn _if that didn't feel mighty uncomfortable. It also left him with an odd feeling that was similar to how he felt after carrying Dudley home. Not the crushing pain that was his cousin's bulky weight, but the relieved feeling of letting go of a heavy burden. The whirlwind of sensation left him panting slightly, but energized. When he was finally able to focus again, he noticed Hermione's concerned look. "Are you alright, Harry?"

"I—" Harry's voice cracked in the embarrassing way that he had been spared up until now. He took a deep breath to recover and tried again. "I'm fine, Hermione. It's just rather, er, _intense._"

He gave her a reassuring smile and lifted his wand. She eyed it a moment before nodding her assent. He repeated the spell. She gave a little gasp despite having braced for it. She didn't seem to be in any pain, however. The emotion covering her face was much different. Harry found himself fascinated by the blissful expression on her face as her gasp turned into a relaxed sigh. It caused something inside him to stir. It was the same hungry beast that had led him to give Ginny that first joyous kiss, but it wasn't growling like then. It only gave a contented purr that Harry did not have the time or inclination to think about at the moment. Hermione opened her eyes and gave him a Madonna-like smile.

"Oh, intense is right," the witch murmured. She shook her head as if to clear it of cobwebs. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Harry had seen her do this to calm herself. Sometimes, she had to be reminded to do it, but Harry knew that it worked for her. Hmm. He added it to his growing list of things to think about _later_ when he wasn't in the middle of trying to destroy Voldemort. Recovered, she reached for his wand and placed them back on the side table that was serving as an altar. With a ruthless determination, Harry squashed the little voice that sounded suspiciously like his Uncle Vernon that was commenting on the freakishness of the whole situation and focused on helping Hermione bless the circle that took up a good portion of the smooth stone floor.

They worked fluidly as if it was a completely normal occurrence to call upon invisible beings called 'Guardians of the Watchtowers'. Surprisingly, Hermione didn't scoff at the thought of them like she did nargles. Harry never did get around to asking her the why of that due to Ron doing his angry bear routine all week, but he suspected it had to do with the fact that the phrase occurred in several books other than the Black Grimoire. It wasn't until he took the chalice from her and had turned to go around the circle to bless it that their fluidity faltered.

At the sight of his back, Hermione had gasped. Harry stilled and looked over his shoulder at her. Her mouth was hanging open as her eyes traced …_something_… on his back. She seemed to gather herself quickly and mouthed the words 'tell you later' at him. He gave her an answering nod and continued through the necessary motions of the blessing.

After the image had been blessed, the chalk seemed to shine with a light that was more than a mere reflection of the candlelight. Harry had the same feeling of the hair rising on the back of his neck that he got around the Horcruxes, except without the same brooding feeling that they inspired. He knew, without the shadow of a doubt, that they had achieved the effect that they were after. It made him nervous about the next part—the part that was undeniably religious. If this worked, and so strongly, what would calling on a Deity do?

Harry was particularly religious, or even spiritual. The Dursleys had gone to church, yes, but only because that was what _normal_ people did. They didn't put anything behind it. But now that they were going to call out to a goddess with no name and ask her a favor. He had never even thought of the possibility of a goddess before a week ago. What if…what if she was real? What did that mean for…well, _everything_?

He felt Hermione's hand slide into his and give him a squeeze. The warm moisture of her grip grounded him just as her nervousness earlier had done. Whatever happened, Hermione was there beside him like she always was, a strong lighthouse amidst the turbulent seas of his life ever beckoning him to safety or at very least, sanity. He took a deep breath, feeling the fear leak out of him. He gave her an answering squeeze, but did not drop her hand. He could really use the anchor at the moment. He felt her tap a simple rhythm with her index finger against the back of his hand. Harry didn't need to look at her to catch her signal to start the intonation.

"_We come before You, oh Goddess,_

_Willing supplicants and completely bare_

_Before Your all-seeing gaze_."

Harry felt as if he had caught the attention of McGonagall. From the slight tremble that Hermione's hand now had, he knew that she could feel it too. Whatever was paying attention now was way stronger than anything Harry had ever met before in his life. The strong scent of magic began to be noticeable. If he had been pressed for a description, he would have likened it to the smell of ozone that preceded a storm. But there was a feeling that went with that smell. Harry had never felt like he did in that moment, not that he could recall, anyway. The reassurance and pure acceptance was very similar to how Hermione made him feel, but somehow it was…simply _more_.

"_We seek Your help, Mother of All,_

_In the purification of these items._

_We lay them before You in this consecrated space,_

_Offerings that are unworthy of Your Purity._

_Take away their taint._

_Make them worthy,_

_As You do all things in Your time._

_Destroy the darkness, oh Wisest Crone,_

_That permeates them and by them, us_."

A wind whipped around the small room, leaving nothing untouched. The tiny flames atop the candles danced merrily in it, casting strange shadows upon the walls. The faint glow of the circle grew in strength. Its magical light warmed his skin as if it were sunlight—no, as if it were the bloody effing _sun_. Harry could feel his skin prickling against it. His scar began to ache, dully at first but gradually it grew from ache to sharp pain. Only years of stifling his cries kept him giving away evidence of it beyond a deepening of his voice as he spoke the final words in unison with Hermione.

"_May our wills be one, Oh Great One!_"

The power that they had raised snapped into action with a blinding flash that painted his vision white. Somewhere in the brightness, there were spots of tarry blackness that popped like the bubbles in the champagne that Uncle Vernon had bought to celebrate his promotion when Harry was nine. Harry could have sworn he even heard the tiny noise similar to that long-ago cork being freed. Something thick and wet trickled down his face to one side of his nose as the sharp pain in his scar graduated to stabbing agony. Grateful that the ritual's crucial parts were over, Harry sank to the ground, his knees too weak to hold him any longer.

"I think you might have to…" He took a deep, shuddering breath as he blinked rapidly in an instinctual attempt to clear the colored spots and growing fog from his vision. "To close the circle by…by yourself…'Mione."

"Harry? Oh, no, Harry! You're bleeding!"

"I am?" Harry reached the hand that was not gripping Hermione's like a lifeline and touched to moisture that was threatening to overflow his top lip. Groggily, he pulled it away and looked at his fingertips. Somehow, through the encroaching grayness, he saw the dark crimson of the aforementioned blood. A foul smell reached his nose from the ichor. He gagged as his stomach rebelled but managed to not embarrass himself. He looked up at his best friend and blinked owlishly at her. "I think…that I'm going to pass out…close…the circle…'Mione."

The last thing he saw was Hermione's frightened face and her lips moving. The sound of rushing water filled his ears and drowned out any sound that might have been coming from Hermione's mouth. The grayness turned to black and he knew no more. He was out before his body finished collapsing into a heap just outside the circle.

=[=]=[=]=[=]=

Author's Note: Okay, before you lynch me, let me explain: I took a week off for my anniversary. Then I had a week long migraine (turns out my atlas is out _again_). Then my daughters broke my coffee mug—which may seem like it shouldn't be on this list, but that mug was important, I tell you. I have OCD which means I can be very ritualistic about things. Having my mug besides me as I write, taking sips as I contemplate the exact phrasing of what my characters are telling me and the merits of using this word over that one…it's more than just a two dollar bit of ceramic. It's part of the _process_.

So go ahead and think I'm a kook, a nut. Goddess knows that my husband has given me that look often enough over the past half week. Him and my oldest daughter. Thankfully, my youngest is on my side. Of course, she's still young enough to think that everything Mommy says is the greatest thing ever and probably didn't understand my mad ramblings about how to choose the perfect mug from among the several dozens of different kinds on the seemingly endless shelves at Old Time Pottery.


	8. Berkano

Disclaimer: I do not own, nor am I making money from, Harry Potter. Just because one of my players claims that the last two books were pure fanfiction does not mean that _this piece_ is the real thing.

Content Warning: Idiot boy is an idiot. Yes, he's a stupid prat with the emotional depth of a teaspoon, but that's why we love him…right?

This chapter is brought to you by bubble bath. Because a single capful can provide immense entertainment to little girls and women alike (though not at the same as that would be squicky and most certainly not in the same way). The kind I get is the cheap stuff from Walmart- -lavender scented to help with relaxation- -but you can get it anywhere or just use a little bit of your shampoo or bodywash. Have a bubble bath tonight!

* * *

><p>"I don't like it. It seems too risky."<p>

Lily was not surprised that it was Alice that made the declaration. The witch had been on a terror since the boys' birthday party. She was vicious and blood-thirsty in a way that was not like the quietly calm witch that Lily had become friends with at Hogwarts. Despite the acceptance that Lily still found herself struggling with, Alice actually found the idea of Petunia, jealous and spiteful Petunia, raising a child of their Circle aberrant and had declared that it would only happen over her lifeless body, and woe be those that worked to thwart her will. If Dumbledore noticed how cold her stares were at the Order meetings, he certainly did not show it. Alice took all warnings from the Goddess very serious, but this time, the tiny woman was not going to just accept the way things were going to fall. Lily understood this. Perhaps more than the wizard who stood before them.

"Oh, come on, Alice, it's a great idea! The Fidelius Charm would make it to where old Snake-Breath could be standing on your front walk and not see the house," Sirius repeated. He slapped his hand against the wood of the table they were sitting at as if to emphasis his point or perhaps to vent some of his frustration. In desperation, he turned woeful eyes towards his best friend. "James, tell them! You aren't going to let this stubborn b—"

"I suggest keeping the slang to a minimum, Sirius," James interrupted. He leaned back in his chair as if he were a school boy testing the limits and didn't have a care in the world. Lily saw his eyes dart around the busy café, on constant alert for an attack. The redhead knew that he was not comfortable at the public and muggle location of this discussion, but he had understood the need to get out of the house to have this discussion, especially after Frank's spell revealed several monitoring spells placed strategically around their small cottage in Godric's Hollow. Inspection done, James straightened with a thwack and leaned forward, determined. "Sirius is correct in the ideal functioning of the spell, but he is unaware of the warning that Alice received a month ago…or at least I'm hoping that he is or else my faith in his intelligence will be sorely damaged."

"What warning? From who?"

James bent one arm and rested his chin in that hand. The way his head was tilted at Alice and Lily left no doubt to whom _he_ wanted to answer the question. He also looked incredibly smug, reminding Lily of the arrogant toerag that would mess up his hair and play with a stolen snitch and making her want to hex him all over again. As if sensing her violent thoughts, his lips quirked into a grin…which set her thoughts in a much different direction. She sighed and began to try to explain a concept that she didn't fully understand to someone with whom she had never talked about even the basics.

"The Goddess told Alice that someone we trusted would betray us and specified Dumbledore as someone who could not be trusted and who didn't have Harry's best interests at heart."

"So…let me see if I got this straight," Sirius said slowly and with the tone of speaking to someone very young. "Alice had a vision and we're supposed to just go with it?"

"This entire situation started because of a prophecy," Lily pointed out after placing a hand on Alice's fisted hands to still the retort she knew the brunette wanted to make. "Why is it so difficult to believe that others could have such insights?"

"Point taken," Sirius conceded though he still looked as if he didn't believe it. He tugged on his ponytail as if straightening it. He fidgeted for a moment more and the other three let him. It was a known fact that Sirius was uncomfortable with some of the deeper concepts of the traditional ways such as visions, but the Blacks had always been traditionalists and even when he had left the family behind, there was some things too deeply ingrained to ever fully eschew. "Okay. So it's not the concept of the Charm that you have issues with—it's the swapping out one of us for Peter?"

"It's also a case of I'd rather not trust someone outside of the Circle," Alice declared and Lily nodded her acquiescence. Like he was watching a good quidditch match, James flicked his eyes from the women to his kin-brother. Lily stole his gaze back as she spoke.

"There are only the five of us that know what I did to protect Harry and Alice's glamour will keep it that way—at least as long as no one thinks to cast a purification spell on him." Lily thought about that and its implications for a moment. If Petunia raised her son, would he be lucky enough to find someone to teach him the old ways like she found Alice? Could she arrange something? She was already working on a personal grimoire… "I want to keep it that way if at all possible. If Moldy-shorts does not know it might be a danger, he can't prepare for it."

"Moldy-shorts—that's a good one, Lil."

"Thank you, James."

"What if he was a part of the Circle? I don't mean telling him about Harry so get that look off your faces, you two. In perfect trust, right? Circling bonds people, makes it more secure magickally. Worse come to worse, you'd feel something, right? If he wasn't worthy of that trust?"

Any protest that either woman had died at the pleading look on the Marauder's face. He was trying to understand. Lily knew that he was only doing what he thought was best. Sirius sincerely thought that this was a good idea—that the Secret Keeper _should not_ be him and _should not_ be Remus, shifty and withdrawing Remus—and that was hurting him, she could tell. She knew from the few times that they had Circled together, primarily Neville and Harry's Naming Ceremonies, that Sirius had issues with trusting himself. The fact that he truly, honestly, and completely believed that they would be safer with someone else in this important role was cutting deeper than any wound the Dark Lord could inflict. Lily felt Alice's hands shift under hers so that their fingers interlaced. Lily closed her eyes, blocking out the external while she focused within and sought that inner strength that flowed from Her.

'_Mother, grant me the words to heal him and the wisdom to choose the best course through these troubled waters,' _she prayed before she opened her mouth and spoke the first words that came to mind, trusting that they would be the right ones.

"We'll try it at Mabon, _all _of us. If he is worthy, the Goddess will know."

=[=]=[=]=[=]=

Pain was the first thing that Harry became aware of as he drifted through the blackness. It prickled the edges of his mind like the tightening of skin against a source of heat. It didn't seem to originate from any specific portion of his body, a fact for which Harry was able to be vaguely thankful. It was also offset by a heady lightness that left Harry with the feeling of weightlessness, as if he had been swimming and was now on land. Woven throughout the two feelings was a giddy warmth that seemed to pulse like a heart at the slightest bit of attention.

The next thing to filter through the haze was the hissing sounds of furious whispers that were flung across him from either side. Occasionally the voice on his left would start to rise only for a third voice to bark out a stern command for silence. Harry didn't know how long it took, but eventually the voices transformed from tones to actual words though he still had to struggle to make sense of them.

"I _told_ you it was dangerous," hissed the voice on the left.

"Oh, don't even start, Ronald," replied the right and feminine one. "The rite itself was not the problem—clearly, as I am fine. I think—for the _sixth_ time—that the Goddess tried to purify Voldemort—grow up—through Harry's connection with him."

"And she obviously was not successful," Ron pointed out with a tone of expectation. There was sort of a smug satisfaction amidst the words that Harry knew he would be upset with had the pain not made him apathetic towards everything.

"What is _that_ supposed to mean," Hermione demanded waspishly.

"I guess your 'goddess' isn't as all-powerful as you thought."

"I never said that!"

"You implied it!"

"Do you even know the meaning of the word 'imply'?"

"That's—"

"Utterly inappropriate? I know, but so was your comment." This statement was followed by a gusty sigh and a familiar-sounding intake of breath. Harry could picture the little gesture that she would be making with her hands as she sought to calm herself. The two certainly fought enough that he, their middle man, knew what to expect. When Hermione spoke next, it was indeed much calmer, and also very resigned. "Look, Ron, it's been a long day and we're both tired and hungry. Why don't we call it a night and discuss this when our tempers are less frayed?"

"Hermione—"

"Ronald, _please_."

"Fine," Ron snapped irritatedly. Harry felt more than heard the stomps across the room, but the slamming of the door was especially loud in the tense silence. Harry wanted to shift uncomfortably but his body did not seem to respond to his mental commands. He didn't even jump when Kreacher's voice broke the atmosphere.

"Does Missy Granger need anything before Kreacher goes to clean up the feast?"

A stranger feeling of pride bubbled within Harry at the respectful tone in the little house elf's voice. This tone was a long sought achievement that Harry had more or less became resigned to never getting Kreacher to use for anyone other than himself—well, no one living at the very least. Kreacher's respect apparently struck a chord within Hermione as well because he heard a swallowed sob that sounded like it may have contained the words "oh, Kreacher", abet in a strangled way.

"Missy Granger looks like a filthy blood traitor when she cries. She mustn't shame herself so!"

And there went the warm burst of feeling…but it clearly had a positive effect on Hermione because the choked sounds immediately ceased and when she next spoke, her voice was firm and strong despite the fact that it was still thick with unshed tears.

"I could use one of the healing potions from the kitchen, Kreacher—the bright blue one. Harry's got to be in pain…"

If Kreacher made a reply, Harry didn't hear it. A muted roaring like a rush of water filled his ears. It warmed him, but in a distant way as if he was detached from everything, which caused its own blossom of worry. As if sensing his distress, or perhaps to soothe her own, Hermione gripped his right hand tightly in both of hers. He felt the trio of hands lift until he felt something smooth and dry against his knuckles. His achy mind realized that the gesture must have been a kiss just as the warm air moved over the exposed portions of his hand. His eyes unexpectedly felt tight and itch as confusion, happiness, and sorrow swirled inside of him.

"Dear Goddess," Hermione said thickly to the empty room—unless she was _really _confused and was talking to Harry, but he somewhat doubted that theory. Hermione was never wrong, at least about the things that mattered. "I've never done this before—I don't know what to say or how to say it properly. Just please let him get better—he was my first friend, you know." Harry heard a few sniffly breaths before she continued, stronger than before. "I don't know what You did—whether You tried to purify Voldemort's magic, like I told Ron, or—" There was an audible swallow and Hermione's voice turned shaky. "Or if Harry was, _somehow_, a Horcrux himself. As much as I hate that thought, I have a feeling that it is true. Thank you—for Harry finding the purification ritual. Everything I've found before that had said that items needed to be destroyed—'damaged beyond repair' was the phrase. I can't—" Moisture spilled over his clutched fingers. Harry had never longed to move so much as he did in that moment—to offer some form of comfort to his friend who was obviously hurting from something. "Life without Harry would probably be safer, but emptier as well. There's this…this _energy_ that he brings to everything he does. He's my best friend, my partner in crime—he makes me a better person just by being who he is. I need him in my life. So, yeah, thanks for purifying him and please let him get better. I don't know how to end this…um, amen?"

Darkness began to pull him under, but unlike before there was a calming aspect to the warmth that cocooned him in a way that reminded him of Mrs. Weasley's hugs…or Hermione's hands clenched tight around his. Something within him shifted and turned like a yogi changing stances. It was important, he knew, but he was too tired and too relaxed to focus on analyzing it. 

When Harry next came out of the darkness, the pain was gone. There was a stiff feeling in its place, as if he had been in the same position too long after a strenuous activity. He stretched before he really thought about it and had to bite back a groan as his muscles protested the motion and threatened to seize up. Instantly, he felt a hand in his right one and another one brushing his hair away from his face soothingly.

"Harry," breathed Hermione. Harry sighed and blearily opened his eyes. Hermione's face hovered above his, close enough that he could clearly make out her relieved brownish-gold eyes though his eyes crossed shortly afterwards. He opened his mouth to say something and let out a strangled croak. He swallowed and tried again.

"Hermione," he managed with a thick, furry-feeling tongue. Harry floundered for a moment before he managed to get his arms under him and pushed. Hermione moved backwards out of his way, but assisted in helping him set up. She held a glass tumbler with a straw for him while he drank what he would have told anyone listening was the best tasting water he had ever had. He drained the cup with a rude-sounding slurping noise and grinned at the scrunching of her nose. "So what happened after I passed out? How much of a git has Ron been?"

"Only you, Harry, can wake up after three days and be more concerned about Ron's attitude than whether or not the ritual that made you unconscious in the first place worked," Hermione huffed. Harry winked at her. Her response somewhat shocked him. She launched herself across the little space separating, her arms wrapping themselves around his shoulders and pulling him tight against her chest. She was speaking, too fast and breathless to understand more than one word in half a dozen. Belatedly and unsure of what to do, he pulled her into his lap like he had once seen Fred do to Ginny in the common room after a particularly nasty rumor was spread about her. Harry rubbed Hermione's back in small circles just to have something to do with his hands. Whatever he was doing seemed to be working as Hermione's frantic words seemed to be slowing enough that he could actually make out the gist of what she was saying. He focused on calming her down to hide the fact that he was undecided between laughter and anger.

"Kreacher did _what_," Harry finally decided to ask. Hermione had shifted to where she actually sitting beside him on the bed with her legs draped over his. Her arms had released their near-stranglehold and lowered to his chest. Harry made sure to keep up the backrub. He didn't think he could handle a truly distraught Hermione. His skills in dealing with upset females were woefully stunted, after all.

"Locked him in his room and refuses to let him out for anything," Hermione said in a quick burst as if the words were under pressure. She sounded as mixed in her response as Harry was himself. "Nothing I said would get through to him! Kreacher just won't listen to me; just keeps telling me that you would deal with it when you woke up."

"And what set him off?"

"Um, well, we were fighting a lot—he was still against the ritual and thinks that we were stupid for doing it in the first place—he said something about how you deserved it—getting hurt, I mean," Hermione clarified all in one breath. Harry had the odd thought that this was really impressive. "And Kreacher heard and that was when he banished Ron to his room and locked him in. So he's been in there for two days now. Kreacher says that he's been 'taking care' of him, but you know Kreacher—that could mean _anything_. I haven't heard from Ron since I made an offhand comment about wishing he'd be quiet yesterday afternoon. Harry, I'm really worried. You don't think that Kreacher would actually hurt him, do you?"

"No, I don't," Harry reassured her. He patted her on the back one final time before disentangling himself from her and turning so that his back was to her, and his legs were over the edge of the bed. In a firm and even voice, he called out the house elf's name. The little being appeared instantly, his large yellow eyes staring calmly at Harry without a trace of remorse within them. Harry knew, just as he knew that Dobby would have been giddy with excitement, that Kreacher was not sorry about how he treated Ron and felt no need to either apologize for his behavior or punish himself. They looked at each other for a long moment, a master and a servant locked in silent but expressive communication. Then Harry spoke, each word causing a look of confusion to grow upon Kreacher's face. "You know that I'm not mad at you, but what you did _was_ wrong, Kreacher. You will apologize to Ron after we go let him out."

"If Master thinks that would best," Kreacher replied carefully. His bat-like ears flapped once in agitation. He balled his little hands into fists at his sides as if he really just wanted to hit something at the thought of apologizing to his captive.

'_As long as he doesn't argue,'_ Harry thought as he stood on shaky legs. He noted in some corner of his mind that he had been dressed somewhere along the line in pajama pants and a worn tee shirt that used to be Dudley's about four years ago so that it was close to fitting. Harry looked back at Hermione who was now sitting cross-legged on the bed. When he asked his question, he was only half joking.

"So, ready to face the Weasley wrath?"

Hermione bit her bottom lip, but nodded. He noticed that she looked really worn and her hair, which he hadn't seen this frizzy since fourth year, looked as if she had ran her hands through it too many times without a good brushing. He wondered if she had stayed beside him the entire time he was unconscious. Harry shot a querulous look at Kreacher who promptly nodded as if he had voiced a question aloud. Perhaps in house elf magic, he had. Harry held out a hand to help her stand up, which Hermione took with a grateful expression.

Without further ado, the pair made their way down the stairs to the second floor and the room where Ron was staying. It took Harry ordering him, but Kreacher released the enchantment sealing the door. The door slid open with a near-silent click. Hermione gave Harry's hand a squeeze—funny, he hadn't noticed that they were still holding hands—before letting go and pushing the door wider to enter the darkened room.

"Ron?"

The wizard in question didn't answer, but remained prone on his bed and glaring at the ceiling. The only sign that he made of hearing Hermione's softly voiced question was a tightening of his eyes. Harry had a bad feeling about this. Ron was not quiet when he was angry. He blew up, and then it was over. The last time that Harry had seen him with this expression of angry resolve was when Ron had turned his back on him during the Triwizard Tournament. The realization sat like a stone in the pit of Harry's gut. It grew to a boulder after Ron sat up and swung his legs off the bed. Without a word, the youngest Weasley son picked up a satchel sitting on the trunk at the foot of the bed. He stood facing them, stony faced and surprisingly calm.

"So," Harry finally asked in the silence, "you're leaving, then?"

"Harry! Ron wouldn't leave—he knows how important this is!"

But Hermione looked at Ron uncertainly as if she was trying to not come to the conclusion that Harry had. Harry wanted to be angry. He wanted to rage against the idea of his first friend abandoning him once more, but somehow, it seemed like it would be just so much like Ron to do it. Harry just wished that it didn't hurt quite so much. And he knew—he _knew—_that his pain would be nothing compared to what Hermione would feel.

"Fine," Hermione said in a huff of breath. Harry could see mixture of anger and hurt on her face and it made him sick. He longed to give her a hug and tell her that it would be alright, but knew that it wasn't the time for that. The Gryffindor witch charged forward and shoved at Ron. "Fine! Just go, you great prat! We don't need you!" She began to hammer on his shoulders and chest with her fists as if attempting to beat sense into him. Her voice, choked and pleading, had risen in her anger. "DO YOU HEAR ME? WE DON'T NEED YOU! SO JUST LEAVE ALREADY!"

Harry couldn't stand by any longer. He went forward and pulled the now sobbing woman away from Ron, who at least had the good grace to look sheepish. Hermione went limp in his arms and they sank together into a kneeling position. Ron stepped around them on his way out the door. Harry watched his retreat with a sorrowful resignation. When Ron looked back in the threshold, their eyes locked for a moment. Ron touched the doorframe with one hand and looked lost. Harry could see the waver and felt heartened by it, a moment of foolish hope that swelled within him.

"Fine," Ron agreed and that hope died a quiet death as Ron softly punched the frame before continuing through the door. Harry listened to his retreating footsteps, hoping against all evidence that it was not over, that Ron would turn around and say that he was sorry. Like an exclamation point, the front door slamming punctate the entire thing. Harry held Hermione tighter and focused on whispering useless platitudes into her hair.

It was the end of something and Harry didn't want to think about it or how he was seriously contemplating not taking Ron back this time. It was too much, too much for any seventeen-year-old to handle. But Ron was lucky. He could just walk out if he wanted. Harry didn't have that option. Oh, no, Harry was the _Chosen One_. Harry was stuck between predestined duty to a world that couldn't commit to a feeling for him and sheer cowardice.

At least he wasn't alone.

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Author's Note: So according my word processor, this chapter is 4,020 words long. I believe that is the record for this story. The story itself is 22,202 words long. I really feel like I should squeeze in exactly twenty words somewhere to make a straight line of twos...

I don't know if anyone has been paying attention to the chapter titles, but this one's (Berkano) I find ironic and humorous, in a snarky way. The rune 'Berkano' means, according to my source, new beginnings and new growth or in reverse, domestic troubles or family problems. The word 'berk' also means idiot. All of the above have their place for the Harry half of the chapter. Unfortunately, according to JK, Ron was the less mature of the Trio and let me just say, he is really showing it. I wonder what's going to make him and Harry bond this time since the Horcruxes are taken care of this time.

I would just like to say thank you to all my readers and favers and alerters out there, especially those that follow up with a review. Let me assure you that I do read every review, even the single word ones. And they are all appreciated.

Keep it up.

~Magi


	9. Dagaz

Disclaimer: If I were really JKR, do you think I would be putting up with my boss?

This chapter is brought to you by rock crystal. Also known as clear quartz, this little innocuous stone is the second most abundant mineral in the Earth's crust and has the lowest potential for weathering on the Goldich dissolution series. It is commonly used amongst pagans for its ability to easily empower spells and prayers. It is a good catch-all stone for crystal healers as it can be used for anything rather than having a focused specialty like other stones. It has found uses in electronics from a simple watch to a more complicated computer. Due to its high thermal and chemical stability and its abundance, it has also found use in abrasives, foundry materials, ceramics, and cements. It can be found in almost any pagan supply shop in both points and clusters. Liven up the energy of your home with quartz today!

Lily looked down at her sleeping son, letting his slow, even breaths sooth her nerves. Despite a pleasant Sabbat and the consension to the even about to take place downstairs. Her hands wrapped around the top of the sidebar of Harry's cot. Was it too late to call it off? They could move back into the Manor and hid behind the estate's ancient wards. Let the world take care of itself. Her knuckles turned white from her grip as she heard the words she told James in school come back to her. _'All it takes for evil to triumph is a good man to do nothing.' _No, no hiding then. At least not completely.

"A sickle for your thoughts?"

Lily gasped and spun, her wand practically apparating into her hand. A colorless beam shot from its tip before she could recognize the now dodging form of her husband. James wasn't quite fast enough to escape and she managed to clip his ear. The Marauder took it in good stride, laughing as he twirled his wand in a complicated healing charm followed by a mild cleaning charm—the same one they used on Harry, she noted absently as she lowered her wand, an apology falling from her lips which James waved off as he took a seat in the rocking chair.

"Just tell me what has you so wound up, dearest," he replied. He leaned forward, laying his forearms on his knees. His hazel eyes were solemn and held none of their usual laughter at the world. Lily turned away unable to stand the reminder. Her green eyes focused once more on Harry's back.

"Sometimes, I just want to hide away safe and sound—to retreat from England completely. Shouldn't my family be my first priority? What should I care about the world? Voldemort is England's problem. America wouldn't have this problem—or Australia—can you imagine Voldemort in Sydney? But then…"

"But then you remember what you told me in seventh year."

"Well, yes," she confessed. Lily raised her eyes to meet his again. "Is it wrong to be afraid, James? To worry about not seeing Harry graduate from Hogwarts because I just had to do the _right thing_? What if doing so causes pain? Does that still make it right?"

"What kind of world do you want Harry to grow in, Lily?"

The question was calm and not at all accusing, but each word stabbed at her conscious like knives. It echoed what she was trying to convince herself of all this time. It reminded her of what was important. What kind of world did she want Harry to grow up in? A world where evil triumphed because she did not have the will to stand up and fight back? Or a world of peace without the shroud of a Dark Lord?

"Darkness is necessary, James—for how can we appreciate the light without the shadows?" Lily held up her hand to forestall the protest she could see building on his tongue. She took a deep breath that shuddered a bit, but centered her nonetheless. "But there doesn't need to be a Dark Lord. _'All it takes for evil to triumph is a good man to do nothing.' _And if a good man…or woman does nothing, they are no longer a good person. I think…that the world I want Harry to grow up in is one where he can be proud of his parents. He will find us, you are aware of that, aren't you? Voldemort will find us."

"We can try to avoid him as much as possible—"

"It won't be enough, James. Nothing we'll do will be enough." Lily took another shuddering breath, trying to stave off the tears she felt gathering in her eyes. She wrapped her arms about herself. She couldn't let despair take her—she couldn't; not if she wanted to be the kind of mother that Harry needed her to be. She barely managed to choke back a sob. She didn't notice James rising from the rocker and crossing to her and the crib. She spoke her greatest fear against his shirt while wrapped tightly in his arms. "He'll go to Petunia—_Petunia,_ who hates everything about me. What kind of life would that be, James? What kind of life would he have?"

"We just have to keep Sirius out of danger. He'll make sure that doesn't happen," James assured her. He seemed so certain that she let herself believe him. Wasn't that the reason that they were going along with Sirius' crazy idea of having Peter as the Secret Keeper in the first place, despite initial misgivings? James repeated himself as if he was trying to convince someone of its truth. "He'll make sure that Harry is protected if something happens to us."

"Oh, James…I hope you are right."

'_Blessed Mother, may he be right.'_

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November slipped by uneventfully. Hermione and Harry spoke of many things, but one topic was noticeably left out: Ron's continued absence. Harry continued to study the Black grimoire and the books from the attic, in between "homework" from Hermione. Cautiously, he began to test out certain finds while Hermione was asleep, finding out what felt right and what did the most damage. Hermione was pouring over the little grimoire found amongst the books, looking up things in the rune books amongst the attic books. Harry caught her occasionally giving him odd looks, but he didn't question her.

Finally, the walls started to seem more imprisoning than sheltering and Harry had more than enough of playing it safe. He needed out, even if it were only for an afternoon. He went in search of his companion, finding her in the library staring at a thick tome about blood wards as if shocked at what she found.

"Fish and chips," Harry announced. Hermione looked at him as if she was seeing him for the first time. Emerald eyes met toffee and Harry's focus changed instantly. "What's wrong?"

"I know how you survived," Hermione whispered quietly. Her eyes shone, but Harry couldn't tell if it were tears or intellectual delight. She continued in a low, furiously-paced whisper. "She figured out how to do the impossible—she _must_ have. I don't know how she got the power for the array—no…I know how. She did it in ritual space and called upon the Goddess. That would certainly lend the power needed. We both felt that. Oh, Harry, I think I know when she did it as well. You must not have gotten a hold of Sirius' wand. It had to be a ritual that drained more than she had planned… Don't you _see,_ Harry? It had to be a secret from everyone. No one could have known; she couldn't risk it getting out."

"Hermione, slow down," Harry interrupted, uncomfortable at the thoughts that were spilling out of his best mate's lips. "What are you talking about?"

"The array on your back!"

Hermione had mentioned it before, the strange tattoo that covered his back that was revealed after the cleansing charm. Harry had brushed it off, to be perfectly honest. It wasn't that important to him currently. There would be time later to study it, time after Voldemort was defeated, after—just _after_, if there was an after. Hermione, obviously, hadn't agreed with him and had continued her research. He should have guessed from all the rune books.

"Alright," Harry declared, trying to refocus on what had caused him to search her out in the first place. "We can discuss it over fish and chips."

"Kreacher can make that?"

"I was thinking of actually going out," Harry said with an eye roll. Hermione bit her bottom lip and wrinkled her nose, her 'thinking' expression. He allowed her the time she needed to weigh the pros and cons of acquiescence to his idea. He had seen her staring out the window a few times when she had thought that she was alone. Four months in the same building was a bit much for anyone to take, even if they understood the necessity of it. Harry was confident that Hermione would agree to his proposal. Any protest that she'd offer, he was certain he could counter effectively.

"The guard out front?"

"Invisibility cloak, dear Granger." Harry didn't point out that without Ron, the two of them could fit easily without being seen. By the way her bottom lip trembled though, he knew that she had thought of it herself.

"Okay," she agreed, "just let me get my coat and gloves."

Fish and chips turned into an afternoon of shopping in the muggle world—well, what shopping they could do without going to Gringotts and getting some of Harry's money converted. He learned that Hermione had a trust fund as well, from her great grandmother on her father's side. She couldn't access all of it until she was twenty-five, but the allowance from it was enough to keep her going for a while. They also learned that candles literally came in all shades, shapes, and scents when they visited a shop whose address was written in the little grimoire that Hermione was studying. Finally, Harry gave up trying to understand it all and let Hermione figure out what she wanted while he chatted with the shopkeeper about the various crystals on display.

"So she said it is a good starter stone and helps focus magic," Harry was explaining to Hermione as they left the store. He held the clear quartz up to let the weak December sun shine through it. Hermione was tucking her bag into her purse, but Harry saw her indulgent smile before she looked back up at him, a serious expression on her face.

"It does and should help with our next project," Hermione replied. Harry cocked his head to side as they walked through the nearby park. Grimmauld Place was on the other side and down a block. They'd have to get under the cloak soon, but not quite yet. Snow had begun to fall while they were shopping and was now covering the landscape in a soft dusting. The water crystals looked like glitter in Hermione's curly hair. Harry wished that he knew how to tell her that she looked very pretty like that.

"Okay, I'll bite," Harry said instead and giving himself a mental shake. "What's our next project?"

"Well, remember how I said the array offered an anchor to your mother's protection? There's a couple of rune phrases that would suggest that that it can be used offensively—_consciously_, Harry, not incidentally like what you did with Professor Quirrell."

"So…you're saying that I could point," he said and gestured with the hand holding the crystal point, "and blast something?"

"Well," Hermione huffed as if the paraphrasing offended her (which when he thought about it, it just might), "I wouldn't use those words, but essentially, yes. You should be able to blast something."

"That could be useful—Resolves the whole wand issue kind of neatly, don't you think?"

"We still don't know how reliable it's going to be," Hermione reminded him. Harry nodded and pointed the little rock at a nearby bench. He scrunched up his face in concentration, trying to force his magic through the quartz like he would his wand. After a few minutes in which all he achieved was a headache behind his eyes, he glanced at Hermione with a skeptical expression. She gave him an encouraging smile and shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know how to access it, Harry."

"If I'm going to fight Voldemort with it, I think I'm going to need a _lot_ of practice," Harry replied. He didn't get a chance to say anything else as the tell-tale cracks of multiple people apparating filled the air. Harry barely had time to pull Hermione out of the way of a red bolt. He managed to return fire with a volley of stunners while Hermione cast a shield to cover both of them.

'_Six of them,'_ Harry counted in between spell volleys. Harry was careful to stick close to Hermione. These were not good odds, despite what little training that they had and all the studying they've done over the last few months. Somehow, that little point stayed in his off hand as he wove hexes and some of the lighter curses he had found among his studies with his wand hand. Hermione kept her shield up while she used jinxes and charms in ways that Harry was fairly certain was not their intended use. The heavy scent of magic filled the air, snuffing out the wintery smell of snow, as the group continued their battle.

All too soon, the two Gryffindors found themselves back to back, surrounded. Hermione brought up a more complicated shield that arched over them like an upside-down fishbowl. Harry could hear her panting from the strain of keeping it up as she returned fire on her half of Death Eaters. Harry's worry grew as he sensed her tiring. It couldn't end here; it just couldn't.

Desperation filled him as magic began to gather just below his skin. Later, much later, he would describe the feeling as his magic preparing to burst from him. For now, he couldn't spare a thought to explain the swelling he felt. His vision went bleary, as if he had lost his glasses. He felt unfamiliar words on his tongue, begging to be said. There came a presence just outside of his awareness, familiar yet not, and Harry felt the magic tingle through the air like lightning.

Then the bleariness became blackness streaked with peridot veins. He could hear screams of pain and his own voice, speaking the words that made no sense but felt right all the same. He could feel Hermione's back pressed against his, an anchor in the fearful confusion of the moment. And the magic—oh, the _magic. _It was a beautiful feeling as the power arched through him like electricity in one of those plasma globes that his science teacher brought in one time when they were studying the phases of matter. He was strong and he was mighty. Nothing could beat him. He was _invincible._

"Harry," he heard distantly after an eternity in that paradise of power. Hands touched his face and the blackness began to fade a bit, revealing Hermione's pale face. "Come on, Harry, _focus_."

"Her-Hermione," he breathed shuddering as the magic ebbed, draining away in little spurts that made him shake. Hermione gave a relieved breath and, closing her eyes briefly, rested her forehead against his. Feeling a bit dim, he realized the hands cradling his face must belong to her. Then the smell hit him. It smelled like the time that his Aunt Petunia had forgotten about a roast in the oven, only far worse. He gagged and ripped himself away from Hermione just in time to avoid being sick on her. He couldn't bring himself to look at the burnt bodies that surrounded them. "What," he gasped, "happened?"

"Let's get safe first," Hermione reasoned, taking a hold of him. The squeeze of apparition made him sick again, but he had nothing to bring up and thus was left dry heaving on the front steps of Grimmauld Place, just inside the Fidelius' protection. The front door opened and Kreacher's large eyes peered out through the crack.

"Master Harry needs mint tea," the house elf announced before popping away, presumably to fulfill the self-given order. Harry gave a sarcastic chuckle and looked at the, if possible, even whiter Hermione.

"Somehow, I think it might get better with practice," Harry announced grimly. Hermione was now so pale that she looked like she might give Myrtle a run for her money. The know-it-all gave a mute nod in response. "I don't think the crystal would change anything though."

Hermione gave a short snicker as if she was trying not to laugh. Then she took a deep breath that changed into another snicker. Soon, they were both laughing hysterically. If anyone could have seen them, they would have looked like loons.

But they were alive and that was what mattered.

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Author's Note: Sorry that it took so long to get this chapter out. Several things happened in quick succession of each other. I started a course on the Sacred Wheel (I'm Native American, if you couldn't guess from the name). Then I had a friend move in with me. Then my familiar died unexpectedly, which has really affected the entire household, particularly my daughters, but also my husband—who is the closest thing I have to a beta as he proofs my chapters and listens to me as I babble about them. Then my car got a hole in the gas tank. Then there was mandatory overtime at work.

I've actually had the chapter written for a couple of weeks, but couldn't find the time to type it up and catch Alex in a mood to read it over for me. Anyroad, the next chapter is already written as well and I've got the Lily half typed up already. I'm not fond of what I've got for the Harry half, though, so I might end up scraping it and rewriting it wholemeal…which apparently isn't a word…and according to dictionary dot com means "whole wheat" and is a British slang? Oh, well, I'd have to ask Granny when I see her next where she picked up from.


	10. Sowilo

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to people, real or imaginary, can be passed off as us having all read the same books written by the same author, who—just in case you were wondering—is not me. This story is not for commercial use and I am not making any monetary profit from writing it.

Content Warning: A lot of characters die in this chapter. No death is graphically described.

_Sowilo_ is brought to you by a mother's faith and sacrifice. I dedicate this chapter to Lily Potter, Alice Longbottom, and every mother who has ever had to make a sacrifice for their child's health and/or happiness, up to and including the Ultimate Sacrifice. I raise my glass, not for the Boy-Who-Lived, but the Woman-Who-Didn't.

* * *

><p>"Read to go, Lil?"<p>

Lily didn't respond to James' question. Instead, she looked around the foyer of the Longbottom Manor again as if trying to memorize it. Their Circle for the night had been as strong as ever—better for not including Peter like they had at Mabon and October Full Moon; more intimate with the energy flowing freely through and around them. Even Sirius, who normally treated it all with a joking mechanicalness, seemed to really feel the connection. The Black heir had actually broken down, though he vowed to deny it if they told anyone. But the high that came with a good Sabbat couldn't remove the lingering shadows of nagging certainty that had followed her all day. Seeing how Sirius had rushed off to check on Peter and looking at Alice now, Lily knew that she was not alone in the feeling that this was her last Circle.

Her feet were moving without any input from her mind as Alice came across the entry hall towards her. They met in the middle. Like magnets, they pressed their foreheads together as their fingers intertwined in a desperate grip. Magic reached for magic, seeking reassurance through the affirmation of their connection. Lily didn't know which of them started, but they were both crying softly. She felt a strong hand rubbing her back and knew that Frank must be trying to comfort them both in his own silent way.

"Don't—just don't leave," Alice begged, her breath hitching with the effort to enunciate through her tears. "You'll be safe here. Don't leave."

"You know we have to, Al," Lily said. Sorrow filled her voice even as her resolve strengthened. "In perfect love and perfect trust, sister of my heart." Alice took in a deep breath and Lily could feel the magic push into her with that breath. The desperation between the pair of witches began to ebb. Like water flowing down the tiers of a fountain, calm resolution filled both women with the promise that came directly from the Mother Herself.

"Always," Alice promised and with the ambient magic still surrounding them, it carried the weight of an Unbreakable Vow. Lily pulled away reluctantly. Somehow, despite everything—all the faith; all the trust and love—Somehow, Lily didn't want this moment to end, and the knowledge that this was the last goodbye, the last touch of magic and flesh, the last words spoken, it all weighed so heavily in her heart that the pain felt like it was almost too much for mere tears to express. She leaned in to press a kiss to her coven-sister's forehead, wishing for something profound and wise to say, something that would comfort Alice as she went forward in life. All Lily could think of was an echo of Alice's words from their equally reluctant parting following their first Circle.

"Merry met, my sister," Lily intoned, letting all her love fill her tone. "And merry part…and merry meet again."

Lily backed away from the Longbottoms, inching away by degrees. Alice squeezed her fingers just before the distance became too great to keep the contact. Lily turned, unable to bear looking at Alice's tearful face a moment longer. James stood beside the open door, Harry sleeping in his arms. James gave her a sad, knowing smile. He lifted his right hand, which had been pressed against the toddler's back, and crooked his index finger at his wife in a beckoning gesture. As if on a string, Lily obeyed. Upon her arrival at his side, they shared a sweet, lingering kiss with Harry cradled between them.

"Ready?" he queried against her lips. Unable to speak for the tears choking her, but resolved to trust, Lily nodded and let James wrap his right arm around her waist. There was a crack and a sucking tightness that Lily imagined was akin to how a shake must feel as it was sipped through a straw. It was a testament to James' skill that they landed on their front walk without stumbling. It didn't stop Harry's sleepy sound of protest, however. The little boy opened his beautiful green eyes and immediately upon seeing his mother, reached out his tiny hands. James handed him over easily. "You get him settled while I call Sirius to see how Peter is doing. Flu bugs must have been hitting early this year…"

Lily made her way up the stairs to the nursery. After a quick check of Harry's diaper, the young mother settled into the rocking chair with her son and a book. The pages turned too quickly as if to laugh at her desire to make time go slower. After setting the finished book aside, Lily lingered with her almost asleep child in her arms, moving just enough to continue the soothing rocking motion.

"Wuv Mama," Harry muttered around his thumb. Lily closed her eyes and pressed her cheek against his springy hair. A single tear rolled down her cheek and down her neck. She tightened her arms around him, hugging his small frame against her chest.

"I love you, too," she returned, "so very much. Never doubt that, Harry, my son. You are my beloved child and nothing can change that. Nothing. Not even death."

There was whirlwind of magic in the nursery and Lily felt Her presence just as clearly as she ever did during a rite. The purity of that moment left her gasping. _ 'Oh, Goddess, is this what Alice felt all the time?'_ There was no room for pain, for fear, amidst the madonic joy. Tears flowed freely as she relished the feeling of chains breaking. '_Blessed Mother of All Creation, She who is the First of All and birthed the Universe, Fair Maiden of the Moon, Wise Crone of the Hearth, She who is the Spinner of the Great Wheel and Weaver of our lives, I give my life back to You who gave it to me. It is from You whence I came, and to Your Blessed Arms that I return. I surrender my will to Yours and ask only that You keep Your promise to protect the son that You blessed me with—'_

"LILY! IT'S HIM—TAKE HARRY AND _RUN_!"

Fifteen minutes later, it was all over. Where once stood a proud little cottage serving as home to a family, there was only a smoldering ruin with a crying child. People started arriving almost immediately after a burst of green light destroyed a portion of the roof. That light, not the sickly green light of the Killing Curse, but a green so similar to the color of an oak leaf in the spring, shone like a beacon, drawing in a crowd of people, both magical and not.

Later the magical folk would raise glasses to toast the child that survived where his parents had not, the child that was whisked away from the magical world over the protests of the surviving members of a broken Circle. After about a week, even those protests were silenced.

But in the darkness of the years that followed, She remembered Her promise to one of Her faithful children.

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Harry turned his face to the sky, letting the steady drizzle wash over him like a healing elixir. So much had changed in the last six months and if their crazy plan worked, it would end. Finally, after years of Voldemort being a very present shadow amidst the lives of everyone, it would be over. …And yet, Harry was not the same boy he was when Voldemort made his move and took over Wizarding Britain, making Harry Potter into Undesirable Number One. Harry blinked away moisture, a flutter of eyelids before giving in and letting his eyes close.

All their planning, all their training, seemed to be useless when faced with _this_ moment in time, the moment where faith and hope were either proven true or fancies of childhood. The circle was cast now and spirits called. Dawn of the holiday approached; Beltane, the day of renewal and fertility, was about to be born. Hermione's schedule had been relentless to get them ready by this date, but hopefully…hopefully, She would smile upon them for choosing _this_ day.

The tone circle they had chosen for today's activities was one that Harry had heard about in one of their visits to the little shop across the park from Grimmauld Place. It was in a forest that Hermione had visited when she was a child called the Forest of Dean. Hermione was very thorough with the wards she had put up around it. Unfortunately, they had made a discovery that had Hermione scribbling for days and using terms that Harry could barely follow better than the average pureblood Hogwarts student: muggle repelling charms did not work on magick practitioners. The obsession that followed was a bit fascinating to watch, even if he couldn't help much, and only ended when Lupin had shown up with his news…about Ron.

Harry had to fight the urge to hug himself as protection against the memory of that news. Infuriating, hotheaded Ron was no longer living. Rumor had apparently reached Ron's hiding place of Luna being held at Malfoy Manor. Ron planned and had pulled together other undesirables, mostly muggleborns who had gone into hiding rather than surrender themselves for registration and the possibility of Azkaban. The ragtag group had stormed the ancestral estate with a wrath only matched by their reckless bravery. No matter what House they had been in at Hogwarts, they had died Gryffindors. The thought that it had been the death that Ron would have preferred was a cold comfort to the pair of abandoned friends he had left behind.

Harry had held Hermione once more as she cried over Ron, mourning the boy he had been and the man she had seen in him. Unable to attend the public funeral, they had a private rite to mark his passing. What Ron had once called "dark magic" was used to heal Harry and Hermione's broken hearts and wounded souls. It would have been funnily ironic had they been in the mindset to appreciate such things.

Ron's death taught them both the importance of careful execution of methodical plans. That would have to do as a legacy for a life cut so short because it was the only thing the youngest Weasley son would leave behind.

Eostar had passed with only a simple rite as Hermione put the final touches on their plans. Lupin had joined in their planning and training after arriving in the middle of one of Harry's drills. The fact that Harry had almost turned the werewolf into a toasted version of himself had it not been for Hermione's deft assistance did not seem to faze Lupin in the slightest. Anything for Teddy, his wonderful son whom Lupin had declared was Harry's godson.

Life renewed and spiraled onwards.

Harry felt more than saw the lightening that signaled the approachment of the new day. He opened his eyes only to meet Hermione's gaze across the shimmering circle that surrounded them. She nodded, an imperial little bowing of her head.

It was just the two of them here in the clearing, despite the fact that their movement had grown to include all of the Order of the Phoenix (the number of which had been far greater than the few who had shown up to meetings in Harry's fifth year). Their plan called for the Order to be retaking strategic societal centers during the distraction that Harry and Hermione were going to be causing. Truly, one way or another, everything hinged upon what happened today. Either Voldemort would be vanquished or all resistance would be. Lupin had wanted to be with them when they started their distraction, but despite their best efforts these last weeks, Harry could not guarantee that he wouldn't kill Lupin accidently. It was not a risk that either teen wanted to take, not after Ron's death.

Like they had practiced, Hermione counted them into the chant that had come from the attic grimoire. They spoke in unison, words that made no sense, even after Hermione applied her prodigious translation skills. Oh, they knew what the spell _did_. It moved a named person or group through space to bring them before the caster. Part of their training the last few months had been mastering this spell. It was going to be the vehicle of their addition to the plan. With all the Death Eaters, including Voldemort, located in one easily reapable place, the Order should have no problem securing their objectives.

As the two teens entered the third and final repetition, Harry tried not to think about the risk they were taking. They'd have to act quickly once they had them. There must be no chance for them to sparble away from the power Harry would be unleashing on them. The Death Eaters were truly loathsome cockroaches and would hide in whatever nook and cranny they could, only for them to respawn later on down the road like a nasty cold. Harry spared the briefest of moments as the power swelled to ask the Goddess to make them successful.

With one last groan, the energy crackled like a live wire before shattering, leaving a good solid hundred people in various states of dress staring disorientated at each other. The clearing was crowded with the sheer number of them. At the center, sandwiched betwixt the two Gryffindors, was the source of all the strife, Lord Voldemort himself. Harry didn't wait for the confusion that covered the Dark Lord's face to clear nor bothered wondering why he was not in any pain. Harry acted, even as Hermione used a slicing hex from the Black Grimoire to cut the snake Voldemort called Nagini into seven bloody strips. Harry summoned the magick.

"Goddess—Mother, smite them," Harry murmured as he let loose, more to give voice to his intention than because he had to anymore. Then he was swept away by the puissance, which was titanic in its might.

Harry wished he could say that he remembered everything after that point. But to do so would have been a lie. He was left in the end with nothing more than a series of sensations and blurry images, hushed words that whispered secrets. The magick wasn't just his, he knew. From his other times in ritual space, the Boy-Who-Lived could recognize the anchoring presence of Hermione and that overwhelming aura that accepted him in ways he could not vocalize or even put to articulation.

Somewhere in that moment of darkness and light, a mother held her son and whispered a series of words to him again. Around him, people died, cooked by the heat of the energy that he was channeling, and a young woman clutched her friend tight to her, murmuring words that were between a prayer and a confession. Beneath the glory of an angry Goddess, a Dark Lord fell and a world was changed.

Then it was _after_.

Exhausted, but present once more, Harry fell to his knees and was sick. Hermione held his shuddering form, rubbing small circles on his back. It was silent in the circle. Even birds were quiet and still. The drizzle continued, washing away the vomit and the blood of the battle…or manslaughter, his mind helpfully provided. Battle implied a conflict that hadn't occurred. Harry's stomach clenched at the thought and he was sick again despite having nothing but bilious foam left in him.

"We should let someone know," Harry finally managed to say after a period of time that could have been hours. His words were sloppily slurred as if he was drunk and his voice was scratchy from the vomiting. Some time while they had knelt there, the drizzle had become an eager rain shower and the normal forest sounds had returned. Hermione summoned her patronus—somehow without letting him go or having her usual amount of difficulty. Its pale glow caused the water droplets to shimmer in interesting colors that held Harry mesmerized enough that he missed Hermione's order to the playful otter that dashed away. Silence returned, like an old friend.

It was just a moment, just as it was just a moment that started it all—a single prophetic moment in an otherwise abysmal interview. It was just a moment of informing a pair of witches that their sons would be endangered due to mere words believed by a madman, given to him by a momentary lapse in judgment. There was no cheering nor did trumpets sound, though elsewhere people had already begun to gather in the street to praise a teenage boy who hadn't even completed his magical education.

"She loves me," Harry announced in the stillness of his moment. Speaking the words cemented the concept in his mind and soul. It made sense, finally, what Dumbledore had tried explaining before his death, how _love_ could be the power known not. Because that was what brought about Voldemort's demise. Lily Evans Potter had loved her son enough to fight Fate and a Dark Lord to protect him, enough to dare the impossible and make the ultimate sacrifice. It didn't matter that he hadn't understood until he had had his stolen moment in betwixt her and the Goddess she had also loved. He now knew it to be true.

"She loves me."

And in the end, isn't that the true victory?

=[=]= The End =[=]=

=[=]=[=]=[=]=

Author's Closing Remarks: When I started this story in February, I was expecting a short 2-5k story that would span at the most three chapters. Final word count is 27,808 according to my word processor and subtracting the number of words in the title. It is, to date, my longest _completed_ work and it was completely written by the characters—I managed to finish a long piece without an outline.

Also, the Harry scene was written four times before I managed this delicate balance between the necessary exposition and the descriptive narrative. I'm still not entirely pleased with it. I wanted Harry to rake Ron over the coals and Hermione to send canaries after him again…[goes silent for a moment as she relives her favorite part of the sixth book before she shakes herself and refocuses] Oh, well, if wishes were fish, no one would starve.

So, I would like to thank everyone who have read, favorited, put on alert, and/or reviewed this story. I would also like to thank those who have done the same to me as an author. I look forward to hearing from all of you.

May the Goddess keep you all safe within Her loving embrace and the spirits walk beside you as we part ways.

Or not—as my next project is already underway and I'd love to see y'all there as well. :]

~Magi Silverwolf

)O(


	11. Kenaz

Harry stood on the threshold to the library just watching Hermione stare out the window at the cold rain. It had been raining ever since Remus' visit last week as if the sky was mourning with them. Harry felt strangely befret of feeling—almost as if he had been hollowed out by the information that the werewolf had brought and was now waiting as an empty vessel to be filled once more.

Ron was gone.

If truth were to be shared, Harry had been expecting it. Ron was always up for anything that would garner glory, be it adventure or Quidditch. The self-enforced exile to Grimmauld Place had affected the redhead the most. Ron was a creature of action. This Harry knew just as he knew that Hermione was now suffering despite her dry cheeks. Ron would have preferred his death to not doing anything to help a friend. Death in battle with honor was surely preferable for any Gryffindor.

The memory of the unanswered letter around Yule rose within Harry's thoughts. The anger it inspired threatened to come to a boil once more. As ruthless as any Death Eater, he pushed the rage away as useless, along with unrealized hopes of reconciliation after all this was over. For one morbid moment Harry pondered the idea of meeting in the afterlife and whether it would be the same. Perhaps it was a holdover from the private funeral rite that he and Hermione had performed last night. Ironically, it had also been Ron's eighteenth birthday.

Hermione closed her eyes and leaned her head against the cold window as if she had heard his thought. She had pulled her hair tightly back from her face but frizzy little curls had escaped to wave defiantly in the air like honey-colored fronds of some kind of agitated fern. There were dark smudges under her eyes that told the tale of the nights she had been spending studying that little grimoire that had been among the attic stuff.

That day back in August seemed a lifetime ago from all the changes that had happened in his life. The tentative faith he had found in the Black Grimoire and his mother's grimoire had certainly centered him far more than Occulmancy lessons. While he enjoyed that feeling, Harry would be the first to admit that he still had reservations about the whole thing. On the other hand, Harry could tell that Hermione was growing more comfortable with the old traditions. That made him willing to relax into them. Her trust in authority figures was stronger than his, but so was her trust in a lot of things.

"I know you're there, Harry," Hermione said, interrupting his train of thought. Her eyes were still closed and her forehead was still against the glass, but Harry could tell—from that spot deep within him where their magic connected during ritual—that the pain she had been drowning in a moment before was back to manageable levels, at least for now. Harry left the doorway to pull out the chair tucked under the desk where Ron had done many of his assignments while he was with them. From his new position, Harry could no longer see her face, but he didn't need to in order to read her. That spot was twirling in a little whirlpool of strength as the witch became increasingly determined over something. Finally, she turned to look at him. Her normally hazel eyes were dark with sorrow as they met his. "Harry, I found something in your mother's grimoire."

"Isn't that what we've been practicing for the last three months?"

"Not just the offensive capabilities of her protection, Harry," Hermione answered without even a hint of rebuke in her dry voice. "It is something else. It appears to be a summoning ritual. It looks like it can summon a fairly large group of people so long as they share a set characteristic. It has a note next to it. …It was meant for the Death Eaters."

Harry stared at her for a long moment as his mind turned the words about in his head. The implications were confusing. Oh, he knew that his parents had been in the Order, so the idea that his mother was working against Death Eaters was not surprising. However, the idea of using magic in this way—everything he had read suggested that it was a bad idea, something about balance… He felt his eyes widen. The Black Grimoire was clear about the concept of culling for the purposes of maintaining status as well as the balance of power.

On the heels of that resolution there was a wave of betrayal as pieces connected in a way he had not thought of prior to that moment. What was his mother thinking? First there was the magic that she had building into the rune pattern on him, with its deadly capabilities. Now there was a summoning ritual designed to bring Death Eaters to a set location. He was being set up to become a murderer, and one of the conspirators to that end had been _his own mother_. Was there no one that he could trust?

'_You can trust me,'_ whispered that spot inside of him. Magic blossomed inside him like brilliant gold flowers. Its gentle perfume tickled his nose even as he felt someone cupping his cheeks. He opened his eyes, dimly aware that he didn't remember closing them, to see Hermione's steady gaze. That little voice inside him repeated itself even as Harry realized that it was using Hermione's melodic tones.

"Of course, I can," Harry said and if his voice had a rougher edge than normal, Hermione ignored it. He tipped his head forward to bump his forehead against hers. "Of course, I can."

* * *

><p>=[=]= [_P =[=]=<p>

* * *

><p>It was over.<p>

They had won.

Those words resounded in his head. Their measures had been successful. There would be no more need to hide away from the world. For the first time in Harry's life, he was truly free. There were so many things that he had pushed off or kept himself from doing, all with the vague hope that there would be an after to the war. Now he didn't need to wait. There was no Dark Lord trying to kill him, no headmaster arranging his life like he was a chess piece.

It was over. They had won.

Grimmauld Place had never seemed so empty.

There were celebrations going on in every corner of Britannia. Obliviators were out in full force attempting to keep their world from being discovered, but aside from pub keepers, they were the only magical humans working. Voldemort was gone and this time there was no chance of him returning. His regime had been taken care of in one fell swoop. All that remained now was restructuring the government to adjust for the loss of key personnel in the short term.

The Second Blood War was over. The Resistance had won.

The silence seemed to echo with remembered laughter.

What was he going to do now? He may have pushed off things for this event, but he had never truly believed that he would live to see its aftermath. There had been so many close calls. His death had just seemed inevitable. If he were honest—and he was alone, so why not be honest?—that was the real reason that he had broken up with Ginny last year. It would have been better if there wasn't a lot of people to mourn _him,_ not the Boy-Who-Lived, but _Harry_. He would have left everyone behind and performed the task that Dumbledore had left him, and then he would have died quietly.

Wasn't that how the story ended? The noble hero sacrificed himself for the Greater Good. He destroyed the Great Dark Lord and died due to his injuries from the arduous battle. Perhaps it would have been better if that was how his story ended. It seemed more fitting than moping in a library while watching firework explosions filling the sky. Kreacher wisely left him to it.

"Your father never brooded," Remus announced some hour after midnight. Not that the hour mattered to whoever was responsible for the fireworks that had drowned out the stars steadily since dusk. Harry spared the last Marauder a nod before turning back to the display. "He didn't—there just was not enough action in it for him. Sirius, though, now he brooded. Every Black I ever met had the act down to a fine art. Of course, every Black I ever met was just so much _more_ than your average person. They had bred themselves to be so, as your grandmother was fond of reminding your father. 'Breeding always shows,' she would say."

"Aunt Marge would say the same, but it was usually as an insult to my parents."

"She may have meant it that way, but it's really a homage, Harry." Remus placed one hand on Harry's shoulder. It took a great deal of effort, but the werewolf managed to turn the teen around to face him. Their eyes met for a brief moment before Harry dropped his gaze. As he would do an errant child, Remus grasped his chin and forced Harry to meet his eyes. "I'm going to say something that I should have told you the moment I met you: your parents would be proud of you. You lack nothing. Don't waste your life brooding in an empty house."

"I'm not brooding," Harry protested. Remus raised an eyebrow at him in silent challenge. Harry sighed and ripped himself free from the other man's grasp. He stalked away from the closest thing he had left to a decent family member. "I'm not," he repeated, speaking more to the mantel than to Remus. He braced himself against cool marble, staring into the darkness of the unlit fireplace. "It's just that…"

"Just what?"

"It just hurts," Hermione interrupted softly. Harry immediately straightened as he felt the tug in his magic as it recognized hers. Her burnished gold eyes held the same ache as his heart did. The specter of Ron stood between them, invisible but recognized just the same. It was the same with Sirius and Harry's parents. "They should be here, but they aren't…and yet…"

"They are," Harry agreed. Remus nodded, his own experiences allowing him to follow the conversation. Better or worse, they had all survived a war that had claimed a dear friend who had been family. Harry didn't see Remus' nod. He found something in Hermione's eyes that captivated him.

Harry was filled to the brim with everything that he had ever wanted to say but had been too afraid to mention. There were a thousand acknowledgments, gratitude for the thousands of times she had encouraged him, believed in him. It was there. She had been so important for so long. Were there even words to ask her to stay, to fill the emptiness with her vibrant presence?

'_I know,'_ her magic whispered. Hermione crossed to him. Her hands cupped his face like he was a precious jewel. With a dawning clarity, it occurred to him that to her, he was. He didn't have escape to the other side of magic to find someone who thought of him as a treasure. There was one right in front of him. He marveled at the idea. His eyes soaked her up like a sponge does water. Through his awe, he felt the steady pulse chanting. _'I know. I know. I know.'_

"Well, I know when I'm not wanted," Remus declared. He might as well be declaring that he was the Queen Mum herself for all it mattered to Hermione and Harry. "I wonder what Dora is up to at this hour. I'll just be off then."

"I will," Hermione whispered in answer to his silent query, "for as long as magic lasts."

"And beyond," Harry amended. She smiled at him.

"And beyond," she agreed. He pulled her close, tucking their arms between them. Their fingers were a tangle, but their grips were as sure as the recognition humming in their souls.

Their journey wasn't ending.

It was only beginning.


End file.
